


Beloved

by Theia_Aithre



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU, All in Claude's POV, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Byleth is Claude's bodyguard, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Issues, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gift Fic, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Pining, Poetry, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Time Skips, brief mentions of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theia_Aithre/pseuds/Theia_Aithre
Summary: An AU told from Claude's pov feat. snippets of his life from a child to an adult as he prepares for the greatest turning point of his life.Through every struggle and hardship his closest friend supports him with a silent, and steady hand with patience beyond her years.His only light in a sea of darkness.(Complete ♥~)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Nader & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 78
Kudos: 147
Collections: The Golden Gifts - Claudeleth Fic/Art Exchange





	1. Something Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my Gift for Myra (@admyrable on Tumblr)
> 
> I hope you like it! I struggled to come up with something for a bit as I had so many ideas... Then this happened! 
> 
> Oh yeah the first chapter turned out to be a huge poem, but don't worry it's just the first chapter! Normalcy will continue afterwards!
> 
> Again, I hope you like it!
> 
> (The whole fic uses Claude's real name— Khalid)

Ever since he was a small child, Khalid of Almyra had only one wish…

He was born a moon too early, with not even a cry in his chest. The court doctor wrote him off as another loss, and turned a blind eye to his struggling breath. His mother was strong and his mother was fierce, but she had long gotten used to the sound of the death song.

But no matter how short, a life was still precious, so she said goodbye with a kiss because she wasn't heartless.

Two days later on a particularly bright and starry night, a powerful wind swept through the palace from the east. It was warm and pleasant, and brought the color into his cheeks.

A sea of glittering stars sat welcoming and bright when he opened his eyes to his first light.

.

The years that followed proved to be a challenge. He often fell ill, and was lanky and thin. A trait that made others look down on him.

At the ripe age of three, he came to recognize the look of disgust that filled the eyes of the servants. A look that was meant and reserved for him alone, tied tightly together with a needle and thread that read: _half-bred._

His mother had a temper and he was always scared to upset her. Whenever his heart was particularly broken he would go to her searching for comfort, only to find that her arms were never open.

_You must defend yourself my beloved. The world is dark, and the world is cruel. You will never survive if you cannot best anyone in a duel._

So he learned to wield a bow before he could properly speak, and swing a sword before he could write. By the time he was five he was slowly winning his own fights.

But the children his age wouldn't always fight with a blade, they often used rocks or pieces of sticks. As time passed the pain would fade, but no matter how many times they knocked him off his feet, what fell from their lips would always scar impossibly deep.

Through many trials and errors and bouts of desperation he made a discovery. The threats they would pose would crumble with a single drop of desert rose.

.

Almyra was a kingdom run on power, though he lived far away from an ivory tower. As long as you won it didn't matter if you came out black and blue. After all, you were not fit to rule if a commoner could best you.

His family had secured the title of King for seven generations. An achievement that many believed would end after his father, whose might was feared across many nations.

The foreign queen was an exception, she was gifted in battle but not with giving life, both requirements to make a good wife.

Yet she was tolerated because the people's love for their king was expansive, and their respect for his wishes were massive. But the town's folk would whisper, and the servants would snicker that nothing could protect the boy once his weapons were no longer blunt toys.

.

But now, Khalid was six, and tired of all of it. So he strapped his sword to his side and his bow to his shoulder, and decided he'd leave, and suffer no longer.

He wondered if his mother would notice he left or if his absence would cause her any distress.

But he'd made up his mind, and started to run, wondering if the stars would gift her a better son.

He thought of his father, and the last time he saw him.

_Get up son, you must get stronger. How do you expect to lead if you can't stand any longer?_

Shaking his head he hurried down through the town. His father wouldn't miss him, there was no doubt in his mind. He would be grateful for the hole he was leaving behind.

He weaved through the streets, looking for a way to hasten his travel. He used his size to his advantage, and hid beneath a carriage. When the sun whispered it's final goodnight he disguised himself with the children who slept on the gravel.

Before he got too far a pair of shadowy figures cornered him in an alley. Each armed with blades curved like fangs, and faces that mimicked a caracle’s grin, and they started to laugh when they began to close in.

They beat him till he could no longer speak, and kicked him till his body was bloody and weak.

.

There were stories that the people believed in. Tales that were often used as a form of discipline for children. When you breathed your last, where you would awaken again would be determined by your past. He knew he had participated in his fair share of violence, but his heart screamed, and cried out to the silence.

Though he was only six, young Khalid only ever had one wish.

His favorite star was particularly bright, and he wondered if it would grant him a _friend_ in his new life.

As his vision began to fade, something started to whisper, to the darkness it beckoned.

Closer, and closer.

From a corner of the night, leapt a small girl with hair of shimmering starlight. Armed with only two stones she made quick work of his attacker’s bones.

When everything settled, and the rogues were no more, she turned to him slowly, lifting him gently as if he were holy.

He looked up to lock eyes with iridescent green, a strange color he'd never before seen.

A girl with wild hair, and dirt on her face had saved his life without thought about his mixed race.

He looked at her without any fear, all the while he kept waiting for her to disappear.

She smiled at him, and leaned in close, her voice a whisper, like a ghost.

When she spoke his eyes went wide and he held his breath.

  
“Hello boy, I am Byleth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://theia-aithre.tumblr.com)  
> if you wanna chat more :D


	2. Through The Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to keep the majority of the time skips in one chapter because the rest pans out mostly in one time period. As a result this chapter specifically is longer than the rest. BUT there are clear breaks in if you need a break ;)

.

~8~

.

“Here, put this on!”

Without waiting for a reply Khalid eagerly took his head tie off and tied it around Byleth's eyes. He never had to ask his cousins to play with him again! He didn't care if it was only the two of them, Byleth was always so nice to him.

Unlike his family, they always got all scary when he tried to talk to them… especially Shapur, his closest cousin in age. He was so tall and scary, he could be so mean to him too. He even ripped up a gift for him that he'd made when he was a kid! Well, he was still a kid but four was baby age.

“What is this?” She patted at her face.

“It's going to be your blindfold, and we're going to play a game!”

Like a distant echo, she whispered. “Game?”

“Yeah, it's going to be fun, cross my heart and hope to die.” He crossed his finger in an _x_ over his heart, even though she couldn't see it.

Her lip stuck out in a small frown. “Hope to die?”

“Mhm.” Quickly, he ran over, and hid a marble behind a shrub. “Okay, so the way the game goes is I hide an object somewhere. You have to go and find it, but you don't have to go too far. I hid it in the area. I'll tell you if you get hot or cold.”

“Hot or cold?”

“Yeah, like how close you get.”

“What if I am hot?”

“Then that means you're close.”

She kicked her foot against the dirt. “Um, alright.” She got down on her hands and knees.

“What are you doing?”

“It's safer like this, I don't want to fall.” She reasoned.

“Uh, I guess that's a good idea.” he hadn't thought about that, everything she did was always resourceful. “Okay, okay, let's get started. Right now you're in the middle. So move somewhere and we can start.”

She stayed still for a moment before crawling a few paces to the right. When she stopped she turned her head in his general direction.

“You're cool now.” He made sure he stayed in the middle so as not to give away where the marble was by standing too close to it.

It didn't take her very long at all to find it, she was after all, a fast learner. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.

On the bright side, when she grabbed the marble she jumped to her feet so quickly that the full force of her grin hit him all at once.

“I found it! I know I did!” She waved her pale fist in the air. “My Khalid, come look, I know this is it!”

He laughed and ran over to her. “What makes you so sure?”

She held out her hand and opened it slowly. “Because it's so small, and round and I've never felt something so smooth before! And I don't know what it is but I love it!”

“Ha, really?” He untied the scarf from her eyes and took a step back. “Well you're right! It's a marble.”

She beamed at him then held the marble closer to her face. “Wow, it's so pretty it looks like an eye!”

“It's actually called a dragon’s eye! My mother gave it to me a few years ago… she said it would protect me.” He laughed bitterly.

Was the reason it didn't work because the marble itself lacked any real power? Or was it because his mother probably didn't mean it when she gave it to him? Did that affect the marble's power at all? Nevertheless, he kept it with him all the time, because if anything, it sure looked cool.

“Is it a real dragon eye?” She gasped, and turned it over in her palm.

“I'm not sure.” He shrugged. “It would be awesome if it is, but if it is— then it came from a small dragon.”

“Aw, a baby?”

“I dunno.”

She nodded, her hand to her chin in contemplation. “Hmm, what's a dragon?”

He laughed, and reached behind his head to fiddle with his low ponytail. “You don't know that a dragon is?”

She shook her head, uneven locks flying about. “No. But I know that they have the prettiest eyes!” She held the marble up to the light.

“Well, I've never seen one in real life, my mentor, Nader, he said they are giant lizards that can fly. My family's sigil is also a dragon.” He grabbed a stick and started drawing in the dirt. “It kinda looks like this.” He did his best to draw the horned creature and the way it's wings furled around the sun. It turned out pretty well if he said so himself.

“Wow, that looks cool.” She whispered in awe, crouching down to inspect the lines. “Are dragons nice?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged. For all he knew they could be. “They might be. Snakes can be nice, sometimes. Maybe dragons are the same?”

She stood and brushed herself off. “What about Your Nader? Did he see one?”

“He claims he saw one fly over his head once, but he likes to tell stories.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Stories?”

He nodded. “Yeah like, made up stuff, for fun. Sometimes people put them in books so they can remember it forever.”

She hummed to herself, and held out the marble. “Thank you for letting me hold your treasure, it's really pretty. And playing with me, it was fun! Oh, and for telling me about the dragons!”

His treasure? He never really thought of it that way. Maybe a trinket. Treasure felt like an overstatement, he'd lost it once. He wasn't that worked up over it, maybe he didn't deserve it? Could that be why it didn't work?

“Actually,” he closed her fingers over the marble. “I want you to have it.”

He didn't really need it anymore, he was never alone lately. With her at his side, most would not approach him, save for the bravest, or perhaps the most foolish. But, Byleth was strong, and her will, even more so. People soon learned not to try anything with her around. She protected him, but what would protect her? She didn't have any armor or weapons, and he sure as heck couldn't protect her when she beat him every time they spard.

He wanted her to stay safe too, maybe the dragon eye would watch over _her_?

“Really??” Her eyes widened. “But—”

“Yes, really.” He grinned. “I really, really want you to have it, actually.” He released her hand. “Besides, it's the same green as your eyes!”

That wasn't quite right either, her eyes were so much more… bright? Magical?

“Oh! Thank you!” She clutched the marble close to her chest. “No one's ever given me anything like this before.”

“Oh, really?” He frowned and kicked at the dirt. “Well, that's not fair because you deserve way more.”

“Why?” She tilted her head.

“Erm, because? You're nice to me.” What other reason could there be?

“Oh.” She bent down and stuffed the marble in her shoe. “Are you happy my Khalid?” She asked once she had straightened.

“Why'd you put it in your shoe? That can't be comfy.” He frowned. Did she not understand what to do with it?

“I don't want to lose it.”

“Yeah, but why didn't you put it in your pocket?”

“I don't have any. I've never had a pocket. I just have these shoes, my pretty dragon eye and my clothes.” She frowned. “But are you?”

Wait… he frowned as well. That's all she had to wear? He looked over her quickly. She wore a very plain dress cut from a tan material.

He reached forward to feel it. It was pretty rough.

Was that burlap??

Why would she be wearing that?? Who could have given her this?

He'd known her for two years, and he was only _now_ seeing this??

He had plainer clothes himself for training, but it was so much softer.

He was more ashamed of himself than anything else.

“Oh, no, come with me By.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him. He'd find her something comfortable to wear from his own things. It was the least he could do! He had way too much anyway!

“I'm so sorry By, I didn't mean to be so rude to you for so long.” He rushed up the gilded staircase, and swept down the long hall leading to his room.

When he was inside he released her hand, and moved over to look through his things.

“Why are you sorry? You've never been rude.” She asked as she took her shoes off and dug the marble out.

“Because, I've known you for so long and I never saw anything wrong with what you're wearing.”

A small gasp caught his attention.

“What's wrong with it?”

He froze. “Oh, nothing. I just— isn't it not uncomfortable? Maybe itchy?”

“No. Not really. It’s better than what I used to have. Plus I have these cute little shoes now!” She grinned and held up her tiny— and rather worn slippers. “Your Mother gave them to me.”

“Oh.” He frowned, and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yes, that was very nice of her.” He didn't really think so. “But, don't you want anything else?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

If she didn't want it, should he just not bother?

He eyed her outfit again. Even the house servants dressed better! What she wore was something he saw adorned on more of the unfavorable members of the city… Did that mean his mother thought Byleth was unfavorable? That didn't make sense to him.

“By… can you at least try this on?” He held up some silk he couldn't ever remember wearing himself.

“Oh, ok.” She placed the marble back in her shoe, and walked over to him.

He piled on a few more items in her arms. “Try that out and um, I'll wait over there.” He gestured to the other side of the room.

“Okay.” She moved behind the changing screen that stood in the corner.

After a few moments she walked out to the center of the room. She looked a bit tangled and had a slight frown on her face.

“My Khalid, I need help.”

He tossed his book aside and moved over to her. “Oh, okay.” he started untangling her. “You know, you don't have to say _my_ in front of my name.” She'd been doing that since they met, at first he didn't think much about it. But he was older now, learning more about reading, and writing helped him understand more about those things. Some words just didn't go together— all the time. It sounded weird! It might also be why people looked at them weird whenever she said it.

“But you say _my_ mother, when you talk about your mother, and _my_ mentor Nader when you talk about Your Nader.” She lifted her arms so he could re-tie a sash around her waist. “And you are my Khalid, right?”

“Uh…” he scrunched up his nose. “No, I don't—”

“You're not?” She frowned and dropped her arms heavily, voice soft. “But—”

For some reason he panicked when he saw the hurt in her eyes. “What, no, no, I um— I didn't finish. I meant that—” he huffed out a breath. “I don't call my mother, _my mother_ when I speak _to_ her. Just, mother.”

Her brows were furrowed as she thought. “Oh! Yeah, that's right.” She lifted her arms again, and he tucked in the extra length from the sash.

“If you want, I can teach you how to read and stuff.” He wasn't the best— yet. There were still books he couldn't understand yet, but practicing with her might help.

“Like to learn stories? Like the ones your— I mean like the ones Nader tells?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“Yes, yes.” She clapped her hands together happily.

He laughed again. “Hold still, By.”

She giggled quietly but stilled herself.

Once he was finished he led her over to the standing mirror in the corner.

“You look great!” He grinned.

She blinked at her reflection a few times, a slight pink dusting her cheeks. “Oh. I look like… not me.”

“Really?” He frowned. “I think you still look like you… but if you don't like it then—”

“I'm like a princess…” She whispered.

His eyes widened. “Yeah, you do look like a princess, I suppose.” He looked around, and swiped a light shawl and loosely draped it over her head. “Lemme just—” It only took a few moments to make sure it stayed in place. He figured he'd give her a braid or two as well.

When he was finished he stepped back. “Ta da!” He grinned. “What do you think?” He added quietly.

“I think… I think I'm too pretty.” She carefully inspected the braid that hung over her shoulder.

“What? Why would you say that? Did someone tell you that wasn't allowed?”

“No…”

“Do you not like it?”

“Oh, I do. I really do.” She spun once, a smile forming when the fabrics swung around her.

“Then… you can have it! If you want… the pants have great pockets too by the way.”

She patted at her clothes till she found it and the better part of her arm vanished inside it. “Ah, you're right. It does.”

“See?”

She stared at him in silence for a long time before mumbling, “... Where are you going?”

“What?” He hadn't moved since she walked out. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you gave me your dragon eye in the garden.” She twisted the delicate fabric in her hands. “And when I asked you if you were happy you didn't answer. You said you hoped to die? So I don't want to take your things if you'll be sad…”

He tilted his head. She did? He completely missed that…

“And now you're giving me your stuff… if you're going to leave… I don't want it. Or— or let me go with you!”

“Oh, no. I'm sorry By. I'm not going anywhere. I can't go anywhere…” He bit his lip, that didn't end well the first time he tried… if it wasn't for Byleth… he would have died.

“I gave you the marble because I want you to have it. The thing I said is just a silly phrase I heard some other kids saying. It's when you're being very serious or something? And the clothes for the same reason, really. I think you look very pretty in them…” It was true after all. Though many people looked pretty in fancy garbs. However, the way she smiled while wearing it really made the difference. “You can actually have any of my stuff really. I don't have much use for so much of it. And I won't say dumb stuff anymore if you don't like it.”

She twisted the fabric tighter until he heard a few threads snap. “But, are you _happy?”_

Was he happy? He hadn't thought about it lately. He didn't cry at night anymore, so that had to mean something. Though she did share his bed and he didn't want her to see him acting like a baby… but, he also couldn't remember actually feeling like crying anyway, lately.

“Um, yeah. I guess so.” He shrugged. “I'm not lonely anymore, I mean, I have you. So why would I not be?”

She beamed at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He didn't think he'd ever been so serious.

“Oh good!” She hurried over to her shoes and took out the marble. “Then, I'd very much like to keep your gifts.”

“Please do.”

She grinned, and stuffed the marble in her pocket. “Oh! I really like my hair too. It's so pretty! I wish I could do that too.”

“Uh, I can show you. It's actually really easy.” He sat down on a cushion, and motioned her over. She eagerly sat beside him. He took his hair out of the tie and pulled it over his shoulder. “It's just three sections of the hair, and you cross them over like this.” He tied a few sections.

“Oh… can I try?”

“Yup!”

She kept staring at him patiently.

He glanced over to her. “Uh, oh… on _me_?”

“Yes? I don't want to take out mine.”

“...”

She frowned, “Oh, is that—”

“Just, don't tell anyone, okay?” He turned around and she was quick to gather his hair behind him. Despite there being no one else around, he was still embarrassed. The worst part was, he couldn't figure out why! It wasn't a big deal.

“Oh, okay! Is this another secret?”

“Yes! Secrets can never be shared with anyone else, you have to promise like last time.”

“I promise, my— I mean, I promise Khalid. I won't tell anyone of the secrets, ever. Cross my heart.” She giggled. “Just that sounds much better, doesn't it?”

He blew out a large breath of air. “Yeah, it does.”

  
  


* * *

  
.

~10~

.

A loud and terrible thunder echoed through the night and Khalid sat up quickly, a gasp ripped through his throat.

The rainy season was finally beginning, and while he didn't dislike the rain—the rain at night during said season was a different story. The winds would sometimes whirl so violently, and the skies would screech like demons. Much like the ones that would plague his dreams on nights just like this one…

“Oh great…” He bit his lip, and dug back under his blankets. He _wasn't_ scared of these storms, he wasn't! He was ten now. He wasn't a child anymore, his father had said so!

Double digits meant he was a man now, right?...

A large flash of light split the sky followed by another large rumble so loud it shook the items on his shelf. He yelled, and tightened the blankets around him. A small and rather cool hand grabbed his hand suddenly and he yelled again, shooting up into a sitting position.

Was someone attacking him??

He blindly searched for the dagger under his pillow.

“Shh, don't scream.” A familiar voice whispered, and he looked to see light green hair, briefly illuminated by lightning as she emerged from under the sheets.

“By?? What are you doing here?” He whispered harshly.

She blinked at him for a moment before a yawn overtook her. “I was sleeping.”

“In my bed??” he whipped his head around in the darkness as if to search for anyone else. “You can't do that!” He said between his teeth.

“Why not? You used to let me all the time.” She stuck her lip out at him, and laid back down— taking the blankets with her.

“Yeah, but we're ten now. My Mother says we can't share a bed anymore.” He sighed, and fiddled with some fuzz on the blanket. The servants didn't like the idea either, but when she first came to live with him she refused to leave his side. She was so stubborn about it that she slept on the floor by his bed. Of course he didn't like that, after all how comfy could that be?? So he offered his bed. It was big enough for three of them anyway.

“Well I think that's a dumb idea.” She patted the space beside her. “Go back to sleep already.”

“I will… when you go back to your room.” He didn't want to get her in trouble!

She frowned, and shook her head.

“Ugh, why are you here anyway? You haven't snuck in here since my Mother gave you your own room.”

“Well, it's raining now. My room is far away from yours… I can hear the horses chatting when I'm there. Besides, Nader said I had to protect you.” She patted the space again.

He felt his cheeks burn up. “He did?? But… I'm fine. We're not walking around outside! I don't need a guard in my own room…” Did his mentor really think he was weak as well?? He just finished telling him he thought he was skilled…

“What's wrong? Why are you frowning?”

“Did— Did Nader ask you to do this?” He mumbled eyes downcast.

“No. He did not.” She shook her head. “I know you don't like the sound of the storm at night, because they bring you demons in your sleep. So I am here to keep them outside where they belong.” She patted the space next to her again.

“You didn't…tell anyone about that did you?”

“No. Cross my heart. You said it was a secret. A secret can't be a secret if it is told, remember?” she gave him quite the unamused look. “You told me yourself. I'm surprised you forgot.”

He laughed lightly but another boom of thunder cut him off, making his stomach drop. Without further hesitation he laid down, and she snuggled closer to him.

“Did the thunder wake you? Or did a demon?” She whispered after a moment.

“It um… it was the thunder.” He mumbled, and when another one rumbled though he quickly reached for her hand.

She tightened her grip, and he felt her bob her head in a nod. “That's good. That means I protected you.”

He stared up at the ceiling in silence, his heart finally not racing in fear. It was true, he couldn't remember any nightmares nor could he remember why he felt so down earlier…

He closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly as sleep finally started to welcome him back into a comforting embrace.

While it was true that bodyguards were supposed to protect whoever they were assigned to, they couldn't actually keep nightmares away… could they?

* * *

.

~14~

.

“You're going to love this, I promise!” Eagerly, he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a golden necklace with a Jade stone hanging delicately as it's pendant. “Vualá! Happy birthday By!”

“You… Got me a necklace?”

He nodded, and scratched the back of his head. “Well… yeah.”

Her eyes widened but she made no move to grab it. “Oh, Your Highness, I don't know if I'm allowed to take that.”

 _Your Highness??_ Since when did she start calling him that? He dropped his hand back to his side. “Since when did you start calling me that?” He frowned. She always used to call him by his name. Where did the sudden change come from??

“Oh well, Your Mother, um I mean Her Majesty wanted me to use proper titles. It is a sign of respect.”

“Um…Well I don't like how it sounds.” He sighed. “She told you not to accept a gift from me either?”

“No, she didn't, but she gave me this book about uh, eat a-cat? And it was hinting at stuff like that.”

“...” He didn't expect this at all! He was so excited to give it to her too! “By… you're fourteen now… it should be okay if you wear _some_ jewelry… you’re not a servant…”

“But I am.”

“What?” He frowned. “No you're not.”

“I'm your bodyguard, like Nader is to His Majesty.”

“Yeah, but Nader is the head of the military.” He crossed his arms. “So if you really want to be using these titles, you should be calling him, _Master Nader._ Or uh, something…” He only half paid attention to court lessons anyway…

“Oh… he never corrected me.” She looked down.

“That's because he doesn't care! Besides, if you compare yourself to him… you should have a rank too.”

“But I don't have one. And, should I apologize to him?” She mumbled.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! “What? No!” He groaned. “Did my Mother or Father threaten you?”

“No of course not. They just told me that if I didn't address them properly, they might have to send me away.”

That was a threat! Send her away?? Where would that be? “They can't do that! Where would you go? Send you _where_?” He felt sick. She was the only one that listened to him! What would he do if she left him alone? He didn't want to go back to talking to himself… he couldn't!

She shrugged. “I would probably go back to living on the street. I don't want to though. I want to stay here. That's why I'm trying to change.”

“You lived on the street?” This was the first time she mentioned anywhere she used to live. He never thought to ask her about it because embarrassingly enough… he thought she fell out of the sky…

His face grew hot when he realized how childish that was.

“Yeah I did. I don't remember living anywhere else.”

“Oh…well, did you name yourself?”

“I don't think so… but I don't really know.”

“Oh.” He sighed heavily, and looked down at the necklace in his hand. He'd been so happy to give it to her too… learning how to make it in secret was not an easy task. Now he didn't know what to do with it…

She frowned, and held her hand out. “I'll take it.”

“No.” He shoved it in his pocket. “I don't want you to feel obligated to take it.”

“Obli— what?”

“Ugh! Like you _need_ to. You don't _need_ to!” He crossed his arms.

Man did he feel stupid! He should have just given her another weapon or something…

He didn't even know if it was actually her birthday! It was just the day he picked since it was the day they met… he didn't want to remember it as the day he almost died…

“Do you really not know when your birthday is?” He muttered with a scowl. If she was lying to him he'd… Well he didn't know what he'd do, but he knew he wouldn't be happy!

“I really don't.” She fell to her knees in a bow. “I'm sorry if I upset you Your Grace, I didn't mean it.”

Gah! His skin could crawl off!

“Why are you _bowing_?”

“Because, I—”

“Just forget it.” He snapped, and rushed off.

People who bowed to him only did it because they _had_ to, and only if his mother or father was around. It was mockingly. He could just feel the detest rolling off their bodies. And now she was doing it too??

He wanted to get to his room quickly. He was just so frustrated he couldn't think straight, and he didn't want to say anything else stupid.

The whole time his mother's voice echoed in his head. Reprimanding him.

_What kind of behavior is that?_

_You're too old to be throwing fits!_

_What does this say about you? Us?_

_If you want respect you have to carry yourself with dignity!_

Thankfully he made it to his room without running into anybody else. Which wasn't hard when the servants avoided him unless they were forced to interact with him.

He closed the door gently, not wanting to alert anybody. But inside he wanted to slam it. Maybe kick something over. Instead he kicked his shoes off, and tossed himself face down on his bed. His eyes burned and his head hurt.

 _His_ birthday was two days ago. His parents had showered him with meaningless gifts. Much of which were still in their boxes in the corner of his room. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, at least he hoped he didn't come off that way. He just only wanted one thing. And somehow, he'd been granted it eight years ago. Someone to talk to. Someone to play with. A friend! Words couldn't describe how happy he was, he never asked for anything else.

And now he felt like that was being taken away from him…

His eyes burned even more and he buried his face in the covers.

A soft knock on the door echoed through the room, and he hurriedly covered his head with a pillow. He didn't want whoever that was to see the stupid state he was in. Because surely— if they could— they'd think even _less_ of him.

After a few moments the door clicked open and quiet footsteps padded over to the side of his bed.

“Your Highness?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. If he ignored them long enough they'd probably think he was asleep, and leave him alone.

“Oh… he's probably asleep…”

Something clanked on his bedside table but he heard no retreating footsteps.

Additional weight pressed down on the corner of his bed. “I'm sorry for upsetting you, Khalid… Please don't be mad at me, but I don't want to risk leaving…I brought you some cookies…”

Only one person actually used his name.

He scrambled to get up so fast he knocked down some pillows. “I'm not mad at you!”

Her eyes were wide. “What?”

“I'm just—” He rubbed his eyes roughly, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears that remained. “I don't want you to leave either…”

She grabbed his hand in both her own. “Then you know why I have to change then, right?”

He looked down at their hands, and sighed heavily. “I guess… but I hate it.”

“How about I just use your name when we're alone? Would that be better?”

“Um… yeah.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. He already felt embarrassed that he'd gotten so upset so quickly. He shouldn't have acted so silly. “I'm sorry I was being so stupid about it…”

She squeezed his hand. “No, I don't think you were. I guess I should have told you about it first. So, I'm sorry too.”

He looked up at her, and smiled sheepishly. “We're okay then?”

“Of course.” She leaned forward and nudged his forehead with hers. “Can I still have my present?”

“Oh… sure.” He dug into his pocket and held it out in his palm. “I um… made it you know…”

“You did?” She released him and took it carefully “Oh, it's beautiful… I love the color.”

He couldn't help the smile. “Yeah… I do too.”

She handed it back to him, and turned her back to him quickly. “Can you please put it on me??”

He grinned when he heard the excitement in her voice. “Okay.” Carefully, he swept her hair over her shoulder, and secured the necklace, giving it enough slack that the pendant rested just below her collarbones.

She faced him again, her own grin plastered on her face. “Thank you. I will treasure it forever.”

Heat once again filled his face but this time, it felt different. He had to look away. “Um… you're welcome.”

* * *

.

~16~

.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, but at the same time it was hard for him to focus.

Climbing up and down the damn mountains all morning definitely wasn't helping. All for what?? To catch a stupid boar that had some chalk painted on it??

This exercise that Nader had them doing was ridiculous, because not only was he supposed to be hunting the stupid creature. He was supposed to catch it _before_ Byleth did. A feat he realized too late was harder than he initially thought.

Everytime he had the beast cornered she'd fly out of nowhere and sabotage him!

“Look sharp, Your Highness!! I'm going to win if you aren't careful!” Byleth ran out from behind some rocks, and shrubbery with a grin. “I've found it again!”

He cursed, and ran after her. It was nearing midday, and he hadn't had anything to eat yet! At Nader's insistence. It was supposed to give them the illusion of being out on the field for _real_. Claimed that soldiers sometimes went days without a meal. Khalid wasn't arguing against that fact, he fully understood the trials that came with the battlefield— well as much as Nader would talk about it. But, at this moment right now, he was just tired of it. He wanted a break.

But breaks weren't given on the _real_ battlefield.

On that note, they weren't doing a battle simulation either.

The boar stood a few meters off, seemingly unaware of the proximity of it's pursuers. That is until he tripped on a damn rock, causing a bunch more of smaller rocks to roll down the hill.

The boar startled and ran off, _again._

He growled, and threw his hands in the air. “Fantastic!” He scowled and sat down on the ground. He didn't care if Nader punished him for _giving up_ . He was out of breath, he was thirsty, _and_ he was so tired his hands were shaking! How many arrows did he let loose today? His shoulders were throbbing!

“Aw, come on Your Grace. Why are you so upset?” Byleth peaked her head out from behind a skinny tree, and walked over to him.

“I'm not.”

“I don't know. That yell you did back there was pretty aggressive.” She slapped a hand on his shoulder and he winced. “I could just feel the angst.”

“Leave me be.” He muttered and attempted to shrug her hand off.

She held fast. “Don't be like that.” She put her other hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.

“Ah, Byleth. Stop.”

She kept shaking him.

“Ugh, I said stop!”

She paused but didn't release him. Instead she leaned over his shoulder to look at him. “Your Grace? What's wrong?” her voice had dropped in volume considerably.

“Nothing.” He sighed, and turned his head away from her, the braid framing his face hit his cheek.

“You're lying, Your Grace.”

He grit his teeth. “I'm not.”

Technically it was a lie, but he didn't want to admit to complaining so much. At the same time he didn't want to lie to her. He hated liers. People were often disgraced for less.

“Okay, I'm just _tired_ .” He mumbled after a few moments of silence. “I don't know what drugs Nader gave that damn boar but it shouldn't be able to run this fast _still_.” He glared at her. “You're not helping either.”

She laughed lightly. “I'm not supposed to be.” She straightened and started to massage his shoulders. “Did you forget the terms of the exercise?”

“ _No_ , I didn't.” He sighed heavily. “How are you not exhausted?”

“I _am_ a bit tired.” She released him, then sat down beside him. “I have to admit… I was focusing more on hindering you than actually trying to catch the thing. I was having—”

His eyes widened. “What?” He turned to her quickly. “So that means you could have caught it sooner, and put me out of my misery??”

He couldn't believe it! All this time, and she was just messing with him! His mood soured further, she could have caught it ages ago, and instead she chose to drag him down? Run him into the ground like _he_ was the animal??

“Did Nader tell you to do that??” He clenched his fist tightly. “What? Are you testing my constitution again??” He stood up. “I'm getting tired of his tests!”

“What?? No, I'm not— I wasn't!” She stood as well, her own expression darkening. “I was just having a good time!”

“So you were making fun of me?” He took a step back, disbelief filling him. “I should have known… why didn't I pick up on it sooner?” He felt betrayed, embarrassed. “Do you find joy in watching me suffer? Watching me struggle?? I'm sorry I'm not a strong warrior, I do my best. Clearly that's not enough. I probably won't last past twenty!”

“Wait, Your Grace, you don't understand… I didn't—”

“Clearly I don't. Look, I'm tired of this. Maybe you should have just let me die back then. Or hell, even last week when those goons cornered me. Why do you bother? If you'd let them finish the job then you wouldn't have to prete—”

His head was all too suddenly pounding, and he was looking off to the side. His jaw hurt too and his neck hurt even more.

He tasted iron.

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

Her fist was still clenched and her eyes were full of tears that had yet to fall.

Regret instantly filled his chest. “... Byleth… I—”

She shook her head quickly and ran off up the mountain.

_Damnnit!_

He tried to run after her but his vision spun and momentarily went black. He applied pressure to his cheek and spit out blood. “Byleth! Come back, I'm sorry!” He coughed, and pushed forward. “Byleth, please—”

Damnit! Why didn't he ever think before going off? He was so stupid. He'd never seen her cry before, and now… now she potentially was, and it was all his fault. She was always there for him, always. What does he do to repay her? Hurt her!

He couldn't have gotten to the top any sooner, but she was already there. Standing on the edge, her head tilted upward.

“You’re not the only one you know… the only one who feels so… lost.” She sighed. “I don't have much… I don't mind it though.” She turned to him slowly. “Even still… I'm grateful for what I _do_ have, and I know I'm very, very fortunate. I know I have so much more than most. I have a good place to sleep… food I can eat. I can even read now! I love to read…” She sighed. “I have you to thank for that…but… I see a darkness in your eyes. I'm afraid of what it's doing to you. So I do my best to give you a reason to smile… but, it's difficult. It's difficult because you're so angry. You have every right to be but…” She smiled, and her tears finally spilled over. “Don't let it blind you…this darkness inside you… don't let it keep the light from your eyes…”

His throat burned, and he scrambled over to her. “Byleth, I'm sorry. I really am—”

She silenced him with a small shake of her head. “I was trying to say… that I was just having a good time. Out here with you. We never play any games anymore… I thought it would be fun...You take these things too seriously these days…”

He remained silent, she was right. He _was_ so angry all the time. He didn't laugh anymore. Often he went to bed filled with so much hate… but she was always so happy. And every time she laughed something inside him twisted.

_Why was she so happy?_

_What was there to laugh about?_

These things were constantly swimming around his head lately. Filling him with anger, despair… he quite literally had a ticking clock over his head. He didn't have much time left. But it never occurred to him that she was doing these things to try to make _him_ happy. Even if he didn't make it, if he failed— she was trying to make the time he had worth it, wasn't she?

Did she actually hurt as much as he did lately? Did she hate the constant training as much as he did? But, why did she put herself through it then? She wasn't going to get tested… was it so he wouldn't be alone? Wouldn't suffer alone?

“Don't ever say something like that again… ever.”

“I won't. I promise.”

She smiled sadly, and wiped her face with the back of her hand then moved over to him. “I'll hold you to that.” She reached forward and gently wiped his own face.

He didn't realize he was crying too…

Her touch was so gentle a new wave of tears spilled over, and he couldn't stop it.

“I didn't mean to hit you so hard…” She continued to wipe his face until the stream stopped, then she handed him a vial from her pocket. “That should help the swelling.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and took it from her hesitantly. He opened the vial, and out of habit, inspected it before he drank any. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. He did. It was more an automatic thing. He'd been poisoned too many times to count… Thankfully, she either didn't notice or didn't take offense. “Um… are we still cool?”

She nodded. “Of course. Let's go find Nader. I'm tired now too… I could eat for the rest of today, and then sleep for a week!” She held her hand out to him.

He smiled slightly, a short laugh leaving his lips, and instantly he felt so much lighter. “I would bet on that.” He glanced down at her hand.

She just smiled, and kept her hand out patiently. She wasn't blocking his path, he could step around her if he wanted— but…

Hesitantly, he took her hand, and she tugged him after her.

Stars he missed holding her hand…it just felt so right. When did he stop? _Why?_ He tightened his grip slightly, and she glanced his way, giving him another reassuring smile that warmed his cheeks.

When they returned to the path Nader was just getting there, the boar tied to the back of his horse. “There you are! Where have you two been?? You really let the beast get the best of you?” He asked, bewildered.

Byleth nodded. “We're hungry.”

He stared at them both with wide eyes before tossing his head back in a laugh. “I bet you are! Alright then, let's head back.”

…

Thankfully, the swelling in his face had gone down considerably by the time they got back to the palace. The mark was still red, but it didn't hurt to speak anymore.

He decided he would eat with the other soldiers today, instead of alone in his room like he often did lately. The ones closest to Nader were the nicest to him. He had no way of knowing for sure if the smiles that they shot his way were honest, but at least they didn't make him feel terrible. Besides, Nader always told the craziest stories. They didn't call him _The Undefeated_ for nothing.

“So I looked the beast in the eyes and said: _‘If you're going to eat me, best learn how to chew without teeth!’_ then I leapt forward and ripped his bloody fangs out!”

The group collectively started to cheer, except for him and Byleth who shared skeptical looks.

“Master Nader, do you really expect me to believe you beat the beast with your bare hands?” Byleth asked with a shake off her head. “The tale is entertaining, but—”

“Oh ho!” He laughed, and slapped her on the back, and she had to steady the plate in her lap. “You bet I did! I can show you some very good techniques as well if you want!”

“Hmm, I think I'd like that.”

“Perfect! Boy, you're joining too!” He jammed his finger in his direction. “You can never learn too much!”

Khalid groaned, and pressed his fingers to his temple. That already sounded like too much, because knowing Nader— he is going to make him do this in _addition_ to every other combat lesson he has during the week.

“It's okay, we can learn together!” Byleth whispered, nudging his arm with a smile. “It'll be fun! Right?”

He smiled back, and when he realized he _was_ smiling, it only grew wider. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“We can make it a game?” She added quietly, almost timidly.

The hopeful look in her eyes made his throat tighten. “O-Oh, of course… if it'll make you happy.”

She grinned and cheered to herself. “Yes!”

He smiled again. “Then it's a game.”

Was her smile always so beautiful?

* * *

_._

_~18~_

.

The changing of the seasons was honored with a week-long celebration that only happened twice a year. People would laugh, and drink themselves—almost— into the grave. It was a rare time where the palace was open to the public nearly all day and night, and there was so much food prepared for the event there were often years where he never even got to try all of the new stuff.

He really loved the feasts, any event that had a feast was his favorite. Aside from the wonderful smells that fill the air, people were often so busy with feasting, and drinking that they paid him no mind. What's better was that it was easier for him to slip into common clothes and blend in with the crowds.

The first day of spring was one of his favorite celebrations and considering he only had two more of these events before his coming of age _celebration,_ marking his twentieth year, he wanted to make the most of it.

His morning was spent sitting with some of the townsfolk whilst they battled one another in various board games. He even got in a game or two himself, and was pretty stoked when he won each time. However that high didn't last long because some of them were sore losers and one of them flipped the game board. After a few games one of them started to talk bad about the _sad excuse of a prince._

For a moment fear froze him in place. Did they recognize him? But when they looked at _him_ , and asked what he thought about the prince he relaxed— somewhat.

“Oh, I um— I've never seen him actually.” He mumbled, and started to get up to leave.

One of them—one that he'd bested in the game quite considerably— threw his arm around his shoulder. “I have! He's a sad thing. I bet he's gonna get _destroyed_ during his ceremony!” He laughed loudly. “This is after all the moment so many of us have been waiting for! A change to face that pitiful sack! Can you believe we can actually kill him and not get charged for it??”

He tensed up. _Kill him?_ He'd heard things like that were brutal. Hell, he was told countless times of the danger. He'd spent hours worrying over whether or not he would survive. But hearing someone say it to his _face_ — and express joy over it??

“Now now, the goal isn't to kill the boy.”said an older man across from him. “Just to see if he's worthy of succeeding his father.”

“Bah! We all know he ain't! Besides, if _my_ son beats him, guess who becomes the next heir? Him!!”

“Yes, yes, but you just have to make him yield.”

“We'll all be better off if he's dealt with, everyone knows that!”

His blood ran cold. He needed to get out of here, _now_.

“Sorry, guys… I um— I have to use it!” He ducked out from the man’s arm and ran off.

There were actually people waiting for the chance to legally kill him? Why was he so surprised!? Would there really be no consequences? Would they really succeed his father just like that?

He kept running till the palace came back into view, and he stopped by a pillar to catch his breath. He needed to find Byleth.

His eyes scanned the crowds for pale green. A difficult task when so many bright colors blurred through the sea of people.

His father had mentioned how only three people challenged him on his twentieth, but as long as the sun was up, any one could step forth.

 _Why_ was he born during the summer??

The days were so much longer, and he _knew_ he just _knew_ he'd get so many more people than that…

From the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of her iridescent hair. He quickly ran over to find her talking to a guy he'd only seen a few times in passing. Was he in the army? She had her arm resting in his and there was a smile on her face. She was also dressed in wonderful sashes of whites and light pinks.

 _Oh_ …

He looked over them again and took a step back. They were attending the festival… together??

He shouldn't interrupt them… she looked so happy… he couldn't even remember what he wanted to find her for. So he could complain about something that wasn't for another two years? Or possibly wasn't as bad as he was thinking? He could have misheard them, or they could have been joking.

Whoever Mr macho was put this arm around her waist and pulled her close.

That was it, he couldn't watch anymore. Not to mention he felt like he was invading her privacy. Silently, he turned down the hall, and made his way up to his room. From the window he pulled himself up to the roof and sat down against the wall in a small cutout.

There really were a lot of people down there. There were so many he couldn't even see the roads. The multitude of colors blurred together like one giant sash that hugged the road.

He hugged his knees to his chest. Since when did Byleth start seeing anyone? Yeah, he knew she was pretty… beautiful, but she always had been. She carried an almost otherworldly aura that made many think twice before approaching her. Well _most_ anyhow. He thought bitterly about whoever that was that held her.

He really should be happy for her, but for some reason he found it rather difficult. Because of this his mood only worsened. Was he really so self centered that he couldn't be happy for her?? He thought he'd grown out of that, matured into a better person.

Byleth was a strong young woman that was now at the age where many started courting… it was only a matter of time before she found somebody. If she got married… where would _that_ take her?

_‘I'm perfectly capable of defending myself now anyway… everything will be alright.’_

Despite that, he figured it was better he stayed up here. He didn't want his sour mood to ruin hers for no reason…

He watched the crowd move around like colorful ants until his eyes grew heavy. It got harder and harder to keep them open and before he knew it, he was out.

.

.

Someone's voice called out, something, but he wasn't sure what it was. It sounded so far away, like it was underwater, or was it him?

…ghness??

.

Your Grace??

.

He wasn't sure if he actually opened his eyes or not because when he did, everything was still dark. But he was still so tired, and they quickly fell closed again.

.

“Khalid??”

This time he sat up quickly, the panic he heard in the voice startling him awake.

“Khalid? Oh… please where are you? If you're hiding I'm gonna—”

He hurried to the edge of his room and peaked his head over to look into his window.

Byleth was standing in the middle of the room looking a bit disheveled. Her hair and clothes were all out of order but when she noticed him her expression twisted into a scowl.

 _Shit_.

He sat up, and barely had time to back away from the edge when her hand grasped the ledge and she pulled herself up to the roof.

“Oh thank the— you’re safe…” She rushed over to him and fell to her knees in front of him. She grabbed his hand, and pressed it against her cheek.

“Byleth?” He frowned, and leaned forward, bringing his other hand to cup her face. “What happened?? Are you alright?” He looked over her quickly.

She had minor cuts scattered about, the most of them were bruises that blossomed across her arms, and one rather large one on her shoulder.

Something wet touched his hand. He frowned deeply, and rubbed his thumb under her eye gently. “Byleth?”

“I'm fine.” She finally looked up at him, and his chest tightened. Her eyes were pooling with tears. “I was just… I'm so happy you're okay.” She closed her eyes tightly and all her tears ran down her cheeks, some slipped over his hands. “And I'm mad at myself for not looking here sooner!”

“By… why are you crying?” He whispered as he wiped her tears away. He'd only ever seen her cry once. It was because he carelessly used his words, blindly, stupidly.

Her tears had been painful to him then, knowing it was his fault didn't help at all.

But these were different, it tore at his chest, and he felt his lungs constrict. Why did it hurt so much more?

“You're hurt, what happened?”

“I— I thought something terrible happened to you… she is fine now, but someone tried to attack Her Majesty! They went on this terrible rant about tainted blood…I — I heard whispers, dark mutterings about you within the crowd. It was then that I realized I hadn't seen you all day! I went to search for you and… well even though I searched your room a dozen times I didn't think to—” She pressed his hand harder into her face. “If something happened to you I… that— I don't know what I would have done…” By the end of it her voice was raw and shaky, and for some reason he couldn't find his voice either.

He pressed his forehead against hers, and inhaled slowly. “But what happened to _you?_ I noticed your bruises…” he grit his teeth. “Did you get attacked too?”

“No. I went after some accomplices… there are five people in custody now.” She closed her eyes and turned her head into his palm then placed a kiss right in the center.

His heart skipped and his cheeks burned. It only got worse when she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Words escaped him and he could only stare at her.

She was beautiful, always had been. Even in her current state her eyes shined like starlight.

His chest ached. Could someone's beauty really cause so much pain?

“Are you okay though?” He mumbled.

“I am now.” Was her breathy response.

“I'm glad.” he mumbled, just as breathless. He stared at her for a few moments, the still bustling sounds of the crowds below filling in the silence. But it was hard for him to focus, his heart beat much too wildly. “You know… you, um— I saw you earlier today.” His voice was barely audible to his own ears.

“You did? Why didn't you say anything?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and forced a smile. “Ah, well you looked busy. I— I didn't want to interrupt.”

“I am never too busy for you…”

His heart barreled forward, nearly tripping over itself. “You… you looked radiant today…I mean— you still do…”

She smiled. “Im flattered…”

“We should, um probably tell my parents that I'm alright.” He mumbled after a moment.

As if they would really be worried about him. His mother never even held him. But right now he couldn't think, and he always did something stupid when he couldn't think.

“Oh, yes. You're right.” She smiled slightly and released his wrist.

Reluctantly, he released her face and stood, taking in a deep, and steadying breath that wasn't filled with the smell of salty tears or the warm remnants of his favorite tea…

…

When he peeked into her quarters his mother was sitting in her lounge chair while a nurse was busy tending to a gash on her arm.

“Hello Mother… are you well? I heard there was an incident.”

“Ah, there you are, my beloved.” She smiled, and waved the nurse away. The nurse bowed briefly and scurried away. “Your Father took care of the traitor who attacked me. I would have done it myself though. The others were accomplices that miss Byleth took care of. All by herself too! I wanted to thank her but she disappeared rather quickly.”

“I see… you are okay though, right?”

“Yes, yes don't bother with that. Where were you anyway? I haven't seen you since yesterday morning!”

“Oh, well you see I was actually—”

She waved him off. “Where is Byleth? I want to speak to her.”

“Oh… she's just outside, in the hall.”

“Bring her in then, boy!” She clapped her hands together.

He turned for the door, “Alright, I—”

“Byleth dear! Please come in!” She yelled over him.

He sighed heavily as Byleth entered with a bow.

“Good evening Your Majesty, are you doing well?”

“Yes, thank you for asking, my dear. I wanted to thank you for your service today.” She motioned for her to get closer.

Byleth nodded, and knelt at her feet. “The pleasure is mine Ma’am.”

“You are very valuable to us here, I hope you know that.”

“I am honored by your kindness.”

She hummed to herself, and patted her on the head. “I believe it's about time we have you a proper title! What do you say?”

“Ma’am, I — I am without words, I am honored.” She bowed her head again.

“You may stand, my dear.”

Byleth nodded and stood.

She stood as well, and went over to her writing desk. “I shall have the paperwork done by tomorrow. Until then, I hope you have a good night's sleep, _Lady_ Byleth.”

“Thank you so much Ma’am.” She bowed again and took a step to the door.

“Did you need anything else?” He asked his mother.

“Oh, you're still here? Run along now, I need to rest.”

He sighed, and opened the door. “Goodnight Mother.”

... 

Out in the hall, Byleth was waiting for him with a grin on her face.

“Someone looks happy.” He teased, and made his way to his room.

“I am. I have been given a rank. It is an honor.” She followed behind him.

“That it is, _M’lady_.”

“Wait till Master Nader hears about this.”

He stopped by his door, and turned to her. “It doesn't sound weird to you?”

“Hm? The title? Oh no, not really. Sir Idris already calls me that.”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“Sir Idris, he takes the night patrol beside me three days a week.”

Was that the guy she was with earlier today? It had to be…

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his head. “That’s…”

“I wonder if he'll see it fit to have tea with me now…”

His eyes widened. What? Did this guy tell her he couldn't have tea with her because she didn't have a rank? His blood boiled. Why was he spending time with her during the festival then? Was it beside she is so beautiful? Was he looking for a quick lay??

“He wouldn't have tea with you?” He asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

“He said it would be inappropriate court conduct.” She nodded, and stopped by his door. “I leave you for the night, Your Grace. I'll be patrolling the halls so you can rest easy.”

He blinked at her dumbly. _Inappropriate court conduct??_ Yet he saw it fitting to take her around in public?? The nerve.

He didn't like the guy, but he didn't even know him. It could be an overreaction…

“Byleth… you _do_ know, you can always have tea with me. The time doesn't matter…You need only ask.”

She laughed softly, and stepped away. “You're too kind, Your Grace. I hope you have a good night.” She bowed her head, and left down the hall.

He watched her go with a frown. Did she think he was joking? Maybe just being nice? Or perhaps she didn't want to spend her free time with him anymore.

He sighed, and walked in his room— tossing himself facedown in the bed.

He wasn't even tired, being asleep all afternoon does that…

Yet _she_ hadn't been. Byleth had been awake all day, and had fought off people today… maybe even danced before that.

He scowled to himself when the bitter feeling resurfaced. He should be happy for her. He needed to be, it was only right.

So why did it sting so much?


	3. Fate Be Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went back and reviewed this like ∞ times...

~20~

.

“He thought it would be a good idea to challenge me to an arm wrestle.”

Khalid nodded briefly to show that he was indeed listening.

The training grounds that they sat in were wide, and barren. Any shrubbery that might have grown long since stomped out by the constant movement that passed through. The dirt was hard, and dry— he'd learned the hard way that it could still scrape the knees almost as bad as stone…

Byleth went back to sharpening her sword. “Well, I told him that if he wanted to keep his honor— more specifically his ego— intact he needed to apologize, and leave me be.”

“Let me guess, you beat him?” He asked with a smirk.

She had developed a habit of storytelling. Something that was hard to avoid when their mentor regularly requested they join him, and his men for the evenings for a chance to unwind.

Evenings with Nader were hardly ever unwinding, but if forgetting for even a moment that there was responsibility in the world could be considered as such— well then that is exactly what kept the two of them going to each event. A chance to smile, and laugh where otherwise they were unable.

“C’mon Your Grace, you mustn't rush a good story.” She reprimanded with a _tsk_. She looked him over in a way that might have seemed judgmental to a more childish version of himself. But he could see the glint in her eyes, and the small upturn at the corner of her lips.

He laughed, and started making another arrow. The pile that he was working on was coming along smoothly, though he still had less finished than the supplies he had available. It was hard not to get absorbed in her voice.

Byleth really loved stories, ever since he taught her how to read she could never have enough books. She claimed that one of his best gifts to her was when he was able to get her permission to freely browse the royal library on her own.

He disagreed.

She deserved so much _more_.

“Ah, you must forgive me M’Lady. I had no intention of rushing you.” He waved for her to continue, the smirk still on his lips, but his chest maintained a pleasant buzz of fondness. “ _Please,_ continue.”

“Thank you.” She smirked herself, and returned his gesture of pleasantry with a nod, and cleared her throat. “Then he says, _'Oh I think I can dominate a tiny shrew like you.’_ So, then I—”

He snapped the arrow he was holding in half. “He called you a what??”

“Oh, he called me a shrew, but—”

He couldn't believe his ears! Why were these men always talking down to her? Did they impose themselves on her because she appeared so slight when not in armor? Or was it because she didn't look like everyone else? Because her eyes were so impossibly bright? Did they recoil at the pale ivory of her skin? Perhaps because they knew she was his guard, and they were rude to her to spite him??

Whatever the reason, it _did_ spite him. He hated it when others were mistreated, especially over something they had no control over. Of course, she could choose _not_ to be his guard… but she didn't. Byleth was such a kind and selfless person, every night he had to thank his favorite star that she had made her way into his life— that she'd seen it fit to gift him with her presence.

At first he tried to find the logical explanation, belief like that was childish— but he also disliked listening to others just because it _made_ sense. He much rather decide on his own, no matter what someone else's opinion turns out to be.

So, even after all these years— fourteen starting in two weeks— he was still convinced that she had fallen directly from that brilliant blanket of blacks, and blues.

They were inseparable. He was confident that he could toss a plate to the side, and she would be there to catch it. And maybe smack him upside the head for doing so.

He couldn't help the amused smile at the thought.

She cleared her throat loudly, a slight singsong to her tone. “Your Grace? Are you listening?~”

He shook his head a little to refocus on her face. “Yes I was.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, maybe I spaced out.” He shrugged, picked up a feather, and started tying it to the next arrow. “But I promise you, my heart was listening.” The second those words left his lips panic shot through him. That sounded too— like it was too much— His ears burned.

If he was lucky, she wouldn't read into that. He didn't even know where that came from.

He forced a laugh, and threw in a wink to try to lessen the delivery.

“Hmph.” She rolled her eyes. “ _Anyway,_ I said, ‘ _Is that so? Then you should bring all your friends so they can watch.’ ”_

“Oh, please tell me he brought his friends.”

“He did.” She grinned, and held her sword closer to her face to inspect it then placed it in its scabbard. “Then I proceeded to crush his knuckles into the table.” She smirked, and stood. “He wailed out to the heavens, _‘Oh great sky above! What are you?!’_ I have no doubt he could have woken the stars from their nap!”

“I wish I'd have been there to witness that.” He said with a sigh— almost wistful— and propped his chin up with a hand. _What was she?_ Amazingly talented for sure, strong, and capable. A powerhouse. If she could compete for the crown herself, he had no doubt she would win without breaking a sweat. A woman too intelligent for many around her, though she still had the grace to handle even the most bumbling of idiots with the utmost propriety.

He scratched at the hair lining his jaw in thought, _or_ sometimes with a display of brute force. Again he lamented missing the chance to witness the man's hubris being smashed to bits.

“Hm, but the tavern is no place for you, Your Grace.” she humed.

“Why is that?” He looked up at her with a frown. “And why were you there anyway?”

“I was picking up some stuff for Nader!” She said as if it were obvious. “Besides, can I not indulge myself in a beverage or two?”

“He run out of ale to fill his evenings?” He asked, unamused. “And, I just think— well you— it's unfortunate that you can't do so in peace.”

She laughed. “How'd you know?”

“I took a wild guess.” He mumbled, and stood. “I hope this guy hasn't decided to show his face around again, has he?”

“No, he hasn't. But it might also be because I told Darius about it too. He likes to brag about how many wolves he can fight at once.” She rolled her eyes again. Clearly unamused by that.

“Who?” He didn't recognize the name in the slightest, and it irked him. It wasn't like she knew everyone in the city, and she never saw more than one guy at a time…but this was a new one. Most left her after finding out she wouldn't give herself to them so easily.

That only meant she was once again left alone…

  
  


She was always so sad after. He always knew when it had happened because she would walk in whatever room he was occupying at the time with a tray of tea, and a shy, hesitant smile.

 _Are you busy?_ She would ask, voice soft like a plume.

He always stopped whatever it was he was doing. Reading? He could use a break from the small text. Practicing archery? His shoulders were starting to hurt. Testing out new poisons? It always helped to go over the information with her anyway. She often helped him think about the best ways to find antidotes or the best way to preserve an effect.

It never mattered, not as much. So long did she sit beside him, and listen to _his_ troubles, his woes. Offer her comfort to **him.** Now that he was clear of mind, he wanted nothing more than to give back to her.

 _I'm never too busy for you_. He would say and offer his best smile.

She often laughed or smiled at that, and would fold her legs as she sat the tray on the floor between them.

_Today, I lost another companion…_

  
  


“Your Grace? Are you feeling well? You've spaced out a lot today.”

He frowned, and rubbed his hand over his face. _I'm just thinking about you…_

“I am. I'm sorry, maybe I'm just tired…” He bent to gather up all his new arrows. “So, this Darius— how long have you known him?”

“I've known him for a few months. He's really nice to me.” She smiled, and helped him gather his things.

He mumbled a silent _thank you_ when they finished cleaning then decided to make his way to the gardens.

She fell into step beside him.

He made sure to match her pace. “A few months? That's—nice.” Most didn't last as long. Most couldn't hold their act for longer.

She nodded, a smile gracing her lips again. “I'm hopeful…”

“What does he do?”

“He's a merchant.”

“He is?” He didn't like assuming things about people. Stereotyping others, and labeling without knowing was something he couldn't stand. But every time she told him about her… _companions…_ he always found himself doing just that. He hated it. Hated it even more that he was usually right.

“Has he… talked about marriage yet?”

Another issue. Byleth never talked about marrying anyone. Had claimed once she didn't want it, but it was hard to find a man willing to _just talk_ in these parts.

“No he hasn't. He just likes to talk about his business a lot, his plans for the future, plans he needs funds for. You know, usual merchant stuff.”

He couldn't help but focus on that last bit. _Plans he needs funds for?_ He didn't want to say it, because it could really be just normal conversation… but—

Byleth was a knight now. Everyone knew it. Some even violently protested during her ceremony, causing a fight in the town.

He hadn't ever felt such a deep desire to cause harm to another person before, ever.

But he couldn't do that, he had an image to upkeep, and the guards had jailed the men for a few days. So he did what any proper person in that situation would do.

He forgave them, and sent them some tea. To which it must have not agreed with them because their faces were temporarily paralized… for a week.

_How strange._

“Ah, I see… has he asked you to help?” He said nonchalantly.

“Well he mentioned applying to the merchant's guild for funds, but even that application costs a fee with risk of rejection. I told him he didn't need to do that, so I offered to help him myself.”

He sighed. There it was. He couldn't out right accuse the guy, but Byleth's kindness attracted so many snakes. He didn't think she was clueless, she was just too hopeful.

“That's very kind of you.” He said quietly, perhaps this time, it will work out for her.

She shook her head. “No, I don't think so. I only did what felt right. _But,_ it would be nice if he liked board games.”

They stopped by the table they often occupied tucked in a small corner of the gardens. A game board sat on the table, left from where they last occupied the space. Probably one of his favorite activities. If he was lucky, they had time for more than one game a week.

“Ah, he doesn't enjoy a good game?” He dug for a bag of game pieces from his pocket, and tossed it in the air between them with a grin. “Too bad. It's his loss, but lucky for you, I _love_ to play these.”

She caught the bag without looking, holding his gaze for a beat longer than usual. Just enough to get his heart acting up. A tiny smirk tugged at her lips. “And I am eternally grateful.” She finally said, and sat down to set up the board.

He willed his pulse to steady, and sat across from her when she finished setting up, allowing her to make the first move.

They played a few rounds in silence, then Byleth introduced some different games to the table and things got surprisingly hectic. And suddenly they were competing.

“Hey! You can't put that piece there!” She exclaimed, eyes narrowed.

“Hmm~ actually, I can. You see?” He showed her his steps then proceeded to grin. “Vualá~”

Her lip stuck out in a pout. “Oh, fine. You win…again.”

He chuckled. “Hey, don't worry, you put up a good fight there! I was one wrong move away from losing everything.” He glanced up to see where the sun was at, then started clearing the board. It was close to dark.

“Thank you for indulging me, Your Grace.” She mumbled, her face now set in a frown.

“Thank you for tolerating me.” He laughed, but it faded when he saw her expression. “What's wrong?”

“It's nothing, Your Grace.”

“No, no, don't say that. It's not nothing if it gets you like this.” Was there something else her friend did? Or worse, something _he_ did?

She shook her head slowly, one of the game pieces held tightly between her fingers. “I just… I'm going to miss you.”

“Miss me?” He raised a brow “Byleth, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Your birthday's in two weeks… you'll be of age to take the throne.”

 _If_ he survived the ceremony… but he didn't want to joke about that with her. At the same time, it really wasn't a joke…

“Ah, well… that's **_if_ ** my Father wants to give it up. He's a stubborn man. I doubt he will. I'm not exactly eager to rob the people of their savior. So if anything, I'll actually be doing the old man's job when he can no longer. This ceremony only validates my right to it.”

“But, that doesn't mean you won't be given other duties.” She mumbled.

“Ah, I guess so. Maybe some lame court stuff? Can't be too different from what I do now… what does that have to do with missing me?”

“You'll be far too busy for me when you're king…” She mumbled, eyes closed.

“See, that's where you're wrong.” He scooted closer into the table. “I'm never too busy for you.” He couldn't see a scenario where he would be! Besides, his father had plenty of time to do as he pleased.

She laughed softly and looked up at him. “I think you would be… some day soon, very soon, you'll have a wife of your own… then kids…not to mention the extra political work. There won't be time for—this.” She gestured to the game board.

He frowned. “I don't think that's the case.”

“You never know.” She shook her head, “I know people tend to be switched around when the King changes…I might not be needed.”

He wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. “You know you're welcome to do whatever you want, right? You're an amazing fighter, and a great strategist. There will always be a place for you here.”

“Hmm, I'm not as great as you. You always beat me after all.” She sighed and looked out to the side.

“ _Almost_ always.” He wasn't going to take all the credit. There were indeed times where she bested him at his own game! “Besides, you nearly always beat me in combat, so we're even.”

She laughed softly but it faded away quickly. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Besides, my mother loves you, and I would be surprised if Nader has ever even thought about replacing you. He’ll probably make you his right hand or something.”

“Her Majesty is very pleasant, and kind to me, but I wonder… would the new queen like me at all?” She glanced back at him.

New queen? He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He tried to ignore it the first time she mentioned it, but now…

He couldn't really say, _Oh I'm sure she would._ Because did he really know? Talk about finding him a wife had started some time ago. Talk that he so very often avoided or tuned out. He didn't want to think about it. Was he really expected to just let someone into his life so easily? What if they had foul intentions? He didn't trust people so easily. In fact, he could count on one hand how many people he actually, and truly trusted. He trusted his mentor, Nader. He was a strong constant in his life, and taught him many things. Did he really trust the man with his life though? _That_ he couldn't answer in confidence. He kept everyone at arm's length. Everyone, even his own parents. Everyone, expect…

He focused back on her. Everyone except for Byleth. He was always so grateful to simply stand beside her…

She'd always been there for him, and he'd be damned if he ever let some stranger decide where she could or couldn't go. What she could or couldn't do. No matter who that person was or claimed to be.

Byleth was his closest companion.

Something in his chest twisted.

She was his only and closest _friend_.

And he would never let anyone change that.

She cleared her throat, fully pulling him away from the depths of his thoughts. “Well, I should go. I might not see you until the ceremony. Lots of stuff to set up...” She bowed her head. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

He sighed heavily. “Goodnight, Lady Byleth. You know, if you ever need anything… you need only ask.”

She nodded once but other than that gave no further response before leaving.

Did she really think he would change so much just because of some silly title? More importantly, she had been acting a little off… there had to be something else bothering her. It wasn't like her to be so worried about the future.

Unless… she _wanted_ to leave, and was seeking some kind of permission to go? To be relieved of her duties? He didn't like the sound of that, but what else could it be?

He could go after her and try to find out, but if she really wanted to tell him, wouldn't she have?

Perhaps it was better to speak to her in the morning, but he had a lot of meetings to attend to. He just hoped he found the time.

* * *

He should have known he _wouldn't_ find the time. Between all of the meetings, paperwork, and last minute training sessions getting shoved in his face, he never had enough energy at the end of the day to do much of anything. The days were passing quickly.

The palace was already hosting many _honored_ guests, each arrived with pointless gifts to shower his father with, and false pleasantries for his mother.

It was sickening.

Now he had only one night left…

“Can you believe that guy brought all six of his sons to participate??” Nader's voice boomed off the marble walls of the lounge, and hammered into the side of his head. “These people really think they can beat you, boy!”

He sighed, and glared at the reflection that stared back at him from the dark liquid in his glass. “Don't call me that anymore.”

“Aw, don't be like that! I don't care if you start growing grays!” He punched his shoulder. “You'll always be a boy to me!”

He resisted the urge to rub his shoulder, and instead scooted away from the—no doubt drunken—man. “Yeah, yeah, I see you're starting the party early”

Whether he won or lost, the party would start after sunset tomorrow. He couldn't help but wonder if Nader would participate even if he did lose…

“It's never too late to start, kid!” He bellowed.

“You know what, I actually think I should go to bed early.” He pushed his drink to the older man. “I should have all the energy I need for tomorrow, right?” He laughed bitterly. “Don't want to go down too early. That would be embarrassing for the King.”

Nader stood up so quickly the table nearly fell over. “C’mere, boy.” He reached out, and grabbed him by the shoulder, tight. “Don't you go saying crap like that! I know I give you a lot of shit.” He gripped his other shoulder just as forcefully. “But, I don't want you going into that mess thinking you'll fail. If I— if you were my s—” he scowled, and shook him once. “You got this, hear me? I don't care how many of those bastards think they can stand up to you! I know you'll win, you'll win because you got that.” He gave him a good smack upside his head.

“Ow, hey— what—”

He shook him again. “Use it. You're stronger now than you were as a child, yes. But you know that might not be enough. Especially with how many I know will step forward. But I know you're smarter than most of them, hell you were smarter than them _years_ ago. Whatever it takes. Use that thick head of yours.”

His eyes were wide. His mentor had never, ever, been so— never said anything so encouraging to him, ever. Not like this. He was speechless. And was he suggesting that he—

“Nader, are you— are you suggesting that I _cheat?”_

He released him with enough force to knock him back a few paces.

“Bah! You've said yourself that your witchcraft or whatever was a weapon. The tourney allows for any weapon. As your combat instructor, I would be insulted if you didn't use _every_ weapon at your disposal.”

“It's not witchcraft, Nader.” He glanced around. “And keep it down, how do you even know what you're talking about? You've had too much to drink. Whatever I've used is just for— hunting.”

“You don't really know that, do you, boy? Besides, I've read the reports. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I'm the head of the damn guard! Just for hunting my ass. Mysterious paralysis, unknown stomach pain, temporary blindness? I put two, and two together. Especially when someone upset Miss Byleth, suddenly someone was complaining about evil spirits getting them. I'd be a fool not to believe it started even sooner!”

“...” It wasn't every time, just when the bastards really deserved it. And often they did.”Come on, Nader. I'll take you to your room.” He grabbed the older man's arm and tugged him away. “And stop talking nonsense.” He really didn't need more reasons for people to dislike him.

“I know what I'm talking about.” He muttered but otherwise remained silent, much to Khalid's relief.

He led the man through the halls in silence, and even made sure he was actually laying down in bed. The big oaf.

“I'll see you tomorrow Nader.” He mumbled.

“Don't let me down, Khalid.” He grumbled, low and hoarse.

Did he just? He felt like he was being dragged by a horse again. “I… I won't.” He whispered

His answer was a snore.

Once he was sure no other response was coming, he stepped out of the room.

He couldn't remember another time where he addressed him by name.

Perhaps he really _was_ worried about him?

He wasn't sure what to do with this new information.

Maybe he did, or at least could trust his mentor with his life.

If he knew about his… hobby. How many others new? Since he was encouraging him to utilize it maybe no one else did? The biggest question however, was why didn't he think of that himself??

Was he really so concerned about his family's honor that he was willing to die for it? It wasn't that he doubted his own abilities, but it was no lie that he would be fighting for his life all day. It also wasn't like him to go into something without a plan B! Was he trying too hard to be accepted?

He needed to get some stuff together.

Quickly, he rushed down the hall but paused when he came to Byleth's room.

She'd been in this room in the Knights quarters ever since she first got her title, but he'd never even seen it.

On top of that, he had not seen her for more than a few minutes in two weeks. Wasn't there something he wanted to ask of her?

But he had to prepare for tomorrow, and surely it wouldn't be appropriate to visit her so late.

He knocked twice.

It wasn't _that_ late, and if he did happen to fail anyway. He wanted to make sure he spoke with her once more before— before he died.

He waited outside patiently, taking the time to admire the intricate engravings that framed her door. Craftsmanship that was highly valued, but the crafter often not enough.

Just when he was considering leaving, the door cracked open before closing again. He heard chains and a latch then the door swung open.

“Your Highness? Is something the matter?” She asked, worry clear in her tone.

“No, I just—” he looked over her but quickly looked away. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered her.

Her nightdress sat loosely around her shoulders. A thin pale material that hugged her hips just enough…

“Oh, forgive my indecency, Your Grace.” She mumbled, and disappeared in the room, only to re-emerge with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her white nightdress still visible from the waist down.

He cursed himself inwardly. “No, no it's not a problem. I _am_ intruding.” He looked back at her face, and forced a smile. “If you're not busy, I—”

“I'm never too busy for you.” She pushed some long stands from her face and smiled softly. “Would you like to come in?”

He shook his head. It would be best if he stayed in the hall. He was already intruding enough. “No, it's alright. I just. I wanted to—” he sighed heavily, and leaned back on his heels, staring at the ceiling. Why did he actually come here? He knew there were questions that he could probably think of, maybe some he might have forgotten.

But in truth, the last few weeks had passed by so suddenly. And he was scared. He'd spent his whole life dreading the moment the sun would rise on his twentieth year. And now all of a sudden, it was here. Surely, if all the failed attempts didn't get him then _this_ would.

He looked back at her to find her waiting in the doorway— patient as always.

Would he ever meet her again? If…

“I missed you.” He finally said. “A lot.”

“You missed me?” She questioned quietly, almost like an echo.

Should he have said that? “I mean, well—” He felt stupid, it wasn't like he didn't see her at all. “I haven't actually had a decent conversation with you in two weeks…”

“I missed you too.” She whispered.

Warmth spread through his chest. “Um, so… how was your day?” For all his literary talents, he was drawing terrible blanks right now.

A quiet giggle. “It was good. I suppose. Not much happened. I spent most of the day patrolling. I even met a few lords from across the country. Let me tell you, they are very— proud characters.”

He laughed. “I bet!”

She twisted a tassel on her shawl around her finger, and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “How was _your_ day?”

He scratched the back of his head. “I guess it could have been worse. I was getting talked at for most of the day.” He shrugged. “It was rather boring to say the least.”

“That sounds dreadful.” She shook her head slowly.

He had a sudden urge to smile and struggled to repress it. “Ah, it was.”

She hummed to herself, and motioned with her head behind her. “Are you sure you don't want to come in?”

“I shouldn’t…”

“I understand… but,” she locked her gaze with his. “I have chocolate.”

She said it so seriously he could do nothing but stare at her for a few moments. The more time passed, the pinker her face appeared in the fire light. Though it could also just be the light.

He blinked at her a few times but her face remained stoic. Was she trying to— then it clicked. Was he really so obvious? Or was she just good at reading him? Or both? Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

“Oh, well, in that case. I suppose I must. You should have said so earlier!” It was a silly excuse, but an excuse all the same. He was just surprised how easily his will crumbled.

She grinned, and stepped aside to allow him in.

Her room was simple, the tiles that decorated the floor were not nearly as intricate as those that adorned the upper floors, but they were still beautiful. Just one candle lit the otherwise dark room, and the curtains by the window seat were drawn back to allow the moonlight in.

She closed the door behind him and padded over to her drawer. “I was saving it for a special day.” She whispered still, as if anything louder would wake the stars.

“Ah, and have I soiled that plan?” He asked just as softly. “You don't have to give me anything.” After looking over the room once more he took a seat by the window. She only had one pillow there.

“It _is_ a special day.” She joined him by the window, and crossed her legs. His eyes were drawn to the dull scars that marred the skin on her arms, a testament to their lifestyle. A pinker one crossed her jaw and slithered down her neck. It was newer. He wasn't aware of such an injury…

In a small pouch she opened in her lap was a thin bar of the very sweet she had mentioned.

“It is?” The urge to ask about that particular scar was strong. After all, it could have killed her! The column of her neck seemed untouched, save for that mark.

“It is.” She echoed again, and held out the thin bar to him. “Happy Birthday.”

He stared at her hand for a few moments before taking the sweet slowly. “It's not quite my birthday yet.” He unwrapped it and broke it in half, handing one piece to her.

She took the piece with a smile. “Yes, well. The sun has gone to sleep. So, it might as well be.” She looked down and traced her thumb over the break of the chocolate. “I'm sorry I didn't get you anything else…You didn't have to split it with me.”

“No, no, don't worry about that.” He bit into the sweet. “I need nothing else.”

She looked back up with a short laugh. “You are too kind, Your Grace.”

He watched her in silence for a few moments. Now that he thought about it, there _was_ something else… “Actually, if you could find it in yourself to honor our deal. You know, the one we made as kids, when we're alone?”

“Deal?” She mumbled, eyes wide like saucers. “Wha— oh.” She smiled again, and her hand jumped to something that hung from her neck. “Of course… forgive me… Khalid.”

Warmth settled in his chest. Before today, It had been some time since he'd heard his name at all. Hearing it from _her_ just made it all the more sweeter. Like it was a secret. “ _Now,_ I need nothing else.” He mumbled after a failed attempt to hide his grin.

They sat in silence for some time, but he wasn't sure as to the actual length. An eternity could pass by, and he would hardly bat an eye. It was so easy to forget around her. To get lost.

Eventually, her voice cut through the silence, but it did little to disrupt the heavy feeling in his chest. “Did you… want to ask me something?” She inched closer to him, and placed her hand over his.

“I…” he looked down at their hands briefly then back at her face. “What happened there?” He gestured to her neck.

Brows furrowed, she leaned away slightly. “What do you mean?”

“That scar.” Against his better judgement, he reached forward, and traced the old wound with his fingers. “Right here.” He could feel her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips.

“It was nothing.” She swallowed thickly and he could feel her muscles react under his hand. “Just someone who tried to take advantage of me…”

“What?” he dropped his hand.

“It's okay, I fought them off. I am fine. They did not touch me.”

“ _Them?”_ He scowled and grabbed her face in his hands. “How many?”

“It was only three.” She pressed her hand over his. “It was a while ago. I am fine now.”

“Yes, but— Byleth— why didn't you tell me? Did you tell anyone?”

She shook her head slightly. “No. I took care of it. I wore a scarf to hide my cut, but I _did_ tell you that day that I had a terrible day. Just… not the details. I didn't want you to worry.” She smiled slightly. “You played cards with me and told me these silly jokes. I felt so much better. I'm sorry I hardly remember them, but I hope you do. I was laughing so much my stomach hurt.”

His throat tightened. “Oh, yeah I remember that day, but I regret to inform you I have no idea what I might have said.” He _did_ remember her laughter, and how it was gentle, and pure like a warm cup of tea. Melodic, like an early morning song bird. “I apologise if I made a fool of myself.”

“You didn't.” She shifted in her seat, and inched closer. “I love when you tell stories, you put so much life into it.”

It was rare that he read out loud, and even rarer still that he would make up his own tales. Yet he often found himself doing just that in the privacy of the gardens, or on the rooftops beneath the stars. Usually with a cup of tea, and always with a pair of bright eyes watching.

“Only for you.” He whispered. And it was the truth. He couldn't imagine doing so for, or around anyone else.

“You flatter me…” She moved closer until her nose almost touched his. “And I am eternally grateful.”

His heart leapt to his throat. “I need no thanks.” He murmured, voice faint.

She reached up, and tentatively brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Oh, but it would not be right if I did not thank you.” She trailed her fingers lightly down his neck in a similar fashion to how he'd done to her.

His mind was whirling, and he sighed with something like longing, deep, and wistful. “I hope you can forgive me, I didn't get anything for your birthday yet…”

She brushed her nose against his. “I only wish for a cup of tea, and maybe if you have the time, a board game?”

“I'll try, but if I don't—”

She frowned. “No, don't. You will do fine tomorrow. You _must_.”

“I know, but if I don't… I want you to know that you don't have to worry about owing me or my family anything. Anything of mine is yours to take. You're free to go wherever, whenever. You always have been. I—”

“Khalid, I don't want to even think about it. Please don't make me.”

“Byleth, I—”

She shook her head. “Please, hold on to this for me… so that you can have my protection even when I am not there…” She leaned away to reach into her pocket, then held her hand out.

He looked down and held his hand out in the space between them, and she slowly placed a small, cool object in his palm.

“It's… the marble.” The small object glinted weakly in the moonlight. He couldn't believe she still had it. Carried it with her even! He looked up at her and she was watching him silently.

“It's the dragon eye.” She whispered like a correction, a tiny smile at her lips. “Promise me you will personally return it to me.” A note of finality in her voice.

He turned the small object over in his hands once. Did it always carry that faint glow?

He had already decided he was going to try to use some of his personal talents to make it through tomorrow. Though there had still been a part of him that doubted.

There wasn't any now. He knew he was going to make it, he had to. If not for his sake, then for hers. And she hardly asked anything of him.

“I will,” he said, with a small smile, “I promise.” 

“Thank you.” She whispered, and pressed her hand back against his face, fingers twisting through his hair. “If I had to live without you… I— even the thought… It is torture.” She closed her eyes tightly.

He feared his heart would disrupt the sleepy silence that blanketed them with how fast it was pushing into his ribs. Could she hear it?

Her words were spoken with such reverence it had him reeling. How dearly he held her both in the literal and otherwise— he wasn't entirely sure there was a way that could properly describe it. Surely she was stronger than him even in this way, because he would rather not live in a world without her in it. He could dare not tell her, to speak the forbidden words he locked in his heart, felt deep in the confines of his soul.

“Are you happy?” He asked, an unknown amount of time twisting in the tiny space between them.

She opened her eyes, and he felt a wave of warmth rush through him. How long had he been waiting to fall back into those deep pools? Like an oasis in the harshest of deserts, he was hopelessly drawn in.

“I am, why would I not be?” She smiled, soft, and sweet, and turned her face into his palm. Her breath warm as it danced across his skin. “I have you…” The kiss she pressed into his hand sent pricks of heat up his arm, the tips of her lashes, delicate touches that stirred something in him.

Something sinful, something forbidden.

He leaned forward, lips just barely brushing hers as he spoke. “You’ve always had me, all of me, _always_.”

The sound of a door slamming shut rang out through the room, and they jumped apart. Momentary fear shot through him, but it faded when he realized it was just someone next door.

“I should go.” He mumbled once the ringing in his head stopped.

“Oh, right… of course.” She avoided eye contact, her hand busying itself with the embroidery on her pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He returned quietly but made no move to leave. His heart was still hammering in his chest. Despite his newfound determination, would fate be kind to him?

He hated the thought that no matter how hard he might try, things might still work against him.

Unless— his survival of all those incidents had been fate… if that were the case, what if his luck ran out?

He hated not knowing.

Shaking his head, and turning around swiftly, he grabbed her hands and knelt before bowing his head over them.

He wasn't going to, but it was all he could do to stop himself from doing something else, from crossing a boundary that he had nearly destroyed on more than one occasion. Like just a moment ago.

Slowly, he pressed his lips into her knuckles, leaving a kiss that left _his_ insides burning. A flame that simmered intensely, fighting to burst through the surface. “I will, see you tomorrow, By.” He whispered into her skin.

He released her carefully, fingertips tracing along the underside of her own as her hands fell—heavily— to her lap. He stood and moved to the door before glancing back at her.

Her eyes were wide, and she was clutching the pillow to her chest. She whispered something, but he couldn't catch it.

Only a moment passed and when she said nothing more he bowed his head and left.


	4. Good Enough

_He hated the smell of blood, hated the sight of it. Hated it, when it was bright, and runny, and even when it was crusted, and dark, a frame of thorns around every gash. Every open wound, the bruises, tender, and colorful, like a rose blossoming across his skin. Most of all, he hated the taste. The metallic iron that filled his mouth, his lungs like poison, a fume that choked him._

_He hated it._

_“Get up, weakling!”_

_But most of all, more than anything he could even imagine— he hated_ **_his_ ** _own blood._

 _This boy that stood over him, shoes stained with that unforgiving red, knuckles tainted, and split— from hitting him in the teeth— was_ **_five_ ** _years his senior. Praying on the weak, a hobby, a pleasant pastime._

_And they shared the same blood!_

_His mother had told him so, but—_

_But_ **_his_ ** _blood was dirty…_

_And at seven years old, Khalid wanted nothing more than to run away. Far away. Perhaps if he left with Byleth at his side… things would be better. Maybe she could take him somewhere safe? Someplace where he couldn't make people so angry. Maybe to wherever she came from…_

_“I don't want to fight you Shapur!” He pleaded from the mud that formed around his torn hands. “Aren't we family? Why can't we just play a game?” Cousins, if he could remember correctly, on his father's side._

_He laughed, and spit in his face. “Don't call me family! And don't speak my name! Why would I want to waste time with you? I don't claim you, and neither does my father. You're dirty, why would we claim you??”_

_Khalid flinched away, and covered his face with his arms. Fear tearing through him like a wild beast does it's prey._

_He tried his best! He really did! But no matter how hard he tried, how much he scrubbed his hands, his arms. He still saw it, that horrible red._

_He was dirty, and he couldn't wash it away…_

_His cousin raised his fist again, and Khalid did his best not to cry anymore than he had. He tightened his arms around himself, preparing for the thud of impact, but it never came._

_Instead, a scream of agony pierced his ears, and the older boy fell to his side, hands clutched between his legs._

_“Oh, my Khalid, are you okay!?” Small hands grabbed his face, and squeezed his cheeks together. “Oh stars, please… can you see me?”_

_A whimper escaped him. He was much too sore. “Y-Yes.”_

_Her eyes widened, and she released him carefully. Then, with a tenderness not attributed to many young children, he was pulled to his feet. His head spun, but she held him steady._

_“I'm sorry By.” He mumbled, guiltily._

_She led him far into the garden, down to a small alcove he used to hide in. She kept one hand on his back rubbing small circles. “Why do you say sorry?”_

_He shrugged a shoulder. “Because, I got beat up again…”_

_Because he couldn't stop it. Because he failed to stick up for himself…_

_Because he wasn't good enough…_

_“You have nothing to say sorry about. That horrible boy should be telling you such things.” She sat him by a fountain, and dumped water on his head, washing the blood and dirt away._

_He jumped at the sudden sensation, and wiped the water from his eyes._

_“Don't worry, my Khalid,” she softly brushed his hair out of his face, “ the stars tell me you will face him again, and you won't need me to save you then.” She tore a piece from her shirt, and wiped his face gently._

_“I'm not so sure, I think I'll always need your help. I don't want to be alone anymore.” Shaking, he reached for her hand, biting back another whimper._

_She regarded him quietly for a moment, free hand still wiping gently away at his face. “Then I won't leave you alone again. I will always watch over you. I promise.”_

_…_

“I can't believe you're still alive!”

It was finally well into the evening, the sun was nearing the horizon. It's pace slow, unforgiving. Casting everything around them in ribbons of deep gold. He had long stopped counting how many people walked up to challenge him. He thought he recognized a few faces, but the moment the thought flickered past it was gone. It didn't matter anyway. These people didn't respect him. It was the very reason why they fought him.

He remained silent, there was no need for talk right now. Speaking served only to distract, to buy time, and at this point many had gotten the opportunity to observe his fighting style. He was tired but refused to give in the weakness that haunted him. The whisper of sleep that tempted him. He was near the end. This was nearly over.

He secured his dagger back to his belt. It had saved him in these last few matches. Exhaustion was a relentless foe.

“Got nothing to say?” Yelled his new opponent, a tall and burly man, skin littered with scars. A man he knew quite well. “How insulting, not to greet your own cousin! We used to play all the time as kids.” He swung his axe around, inciting a cheer from the crowd. “Don't you remember?”

Khalid tightened his grip on his sword, a thin curved blade, adorned at the hilt with a red tassel. Red like the blood that stained his knuckles, red like the bruises that bloomed across his arms. Like the color that tainted the metallic blade.

“I have no memory of such things.” He spat that visceral red in the space between them.

The very red he hated so much.

The rage that filled his opponents eyes could not be contained, and it spilled out in waves that shook his body, and rattled the axe in his hand. “Well, you should remember when I kick your sorry ass into the ground. Only this time, I won't have mercy.”

He lunged forward, axe raised. He was strong, each swing was heavy, with enough force behind it to no doubt knock an arm off.

But Khalid was quick on his feet, he'd always been so— despite the painful fatigue. He dodged the strike slower than he intended. Earning a tear in his shirt— a cloth that already hung in bloody ribbons. He kept his blade poised and his eyes locked on the man before him. He would not kill in cold blood, he'd not taken a life yet. But the temptation was there, like a shadow in the night, as demons often lingered. Whispering their temptations with promises of honey.

This man was one of many that hated him without cause. It mattered not who he was, detested him for merely existing.

Family or no, would he feel guilt?

Ending him would be easy, his movements were slow, and clunky. A few swipes of the dagger strapped at his side would be enough where one would only hinder. The blade coated with poison that would bleed away before the medic could decipher anything. A useful trick that had helped him today.

He ducked a blow aimed for his head, and kicked the man's feet out from under him.

To use his own blood as an example? Was there shame in such an action? Would seeking retribution for his abuse bring down the value of his soul? Did something like that actually matter to him? There was little he feared at this point in life, it made little sense to fear something no one had real proof of. To bind oneself to a myth, a rumor, a belief charged with the pain of a plethora of souls.

There was no logic in it.

But that was precisely why he hesitated. No, not the fear of himself when he was no longer, not entirely. It was the knowledge that he could not prove such a thing as true or false. His hand hovered over the hilt of his dagger as his opponent stood. Hesitation would get him killed, but still despite knowing that, he hesitated.

How would he feel if he deliberately caused the death of another? Isn't that what was expected?

A low whistle passed his ear, and he stepped back to dodge, but he was a second too late.

He saw it first, the arc of red that trailed through the air, chasing the axe that freed it.

His vision blurred, momentarily, everything spun. There were loud jeers that vibrated through the hazy wall of spectators that surrounded him. Through the screen that hindered his vision he saw his opponent charge him again. The glint of the blade directed the sun into his eyes.

Blindly, he dodged to the side, narrowly missing another strike.

Quickly, he looked at his shoulder, where he knew he'd been hit, it wasn't pretty. He couldn't tell how deep it was based on a glance, but the blood that bubbled up didn't look too promising. It soaked into his shirt and ran down his arm. Heated and sticky, mixing in with the dirt that clung to his clothes, the sweat that stung every nick.

Panic was eating away at him slowly, like a river does it's bank. How much longer would he have to fight for his life? Why did he really need to _prove_ himself to the people?? They just wanted to be rid of him. Proved it as much when opponent after opponent had tried to cut him down, had been out for his head. Each time, each and every time, he managed to win, to stand and face the next so called challenger. And every time he allowed them to leave with their life. For what? So they could come crawling back again another day? Bringing their hatred with them like a black ooze that permeates through the heart. So they could return and exact some kind of misplaced vengeance upon him?

He wiped his eyes clear in time to roll away from another strike.

The axe clashed into the dirt with enough force to split the hardened ground.

Something round pressed into his leg when he rolled and his hand reached down to inspect the damage.

Everything was suddenly quiet, save for an insistent white noise that strummed in his ears.

The dragon eye…

Returning it would be difficult if he was dead.

He laughed to himself. How ridiculous was it that something so simple, so small could ground him in an instant? Maybe Byleth really _had_ blessed it… In a way, perhaps he had his mother to thank as well.

“What's so funny, bastard?”

“Ah, that was out loud?” He smirked and tightened his grip on his sword. “You’re going to have to learn to forgive me then, _cousin_.”

The man snarled in rage and charged him again, but this time he didn't get far.

Khalid sidestepped him swiftly, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him again.

When he fell the axe flew from his grasp and Khalid stepped in the path leading to his weapon—sword drawn.

In a courtesy given to all his opponents this day he took a step back, though kept his sword steady at his cousin’s neck. “Do you yield?”

He started to stand up. “Never, I won't be ignored, I will—”

He didn't let him finish. A fluid motion was all that he needed to get him on the ground again, and with the hilt of his sword, he made sure he wasn't getting up for a while.

A heavy silence filled the air for two beats, but it felt longer than that. It felt thick, and heavy, like it would suffocate him.

A figure up where his father sat stood, a boisterous cheer emanating from them. One he often heard telling outlandish stories beside a fire.

The rest of the crowd followed suit, but the louder they got, the harder his head pounded.

He was dizzy, and lightheaded, and despite his surprising victory— whether won honorably or not— he still found resistance when he pushed through the crowd, their eyes ravenous wolves. Snide whispers taunted and mocked him as he passed, but he paid them no mind. Those were shadows that constantly clung to his back anyway. He needed to get away from everyone.

He couldn't see.

All he saw was red.

A cool hand grabbed his arm, and gently tugged him away. Words were said, but he couldn't make out the syllables, it was as if he was underwater. The flashing of the torch light, the overpowering smell of different poisons smashed together that people willingly consumed. His head was spinning.

Just before the panic snuck up on him again, the hand pressed against his forehead, sending a wave of goosebumps though him.

He jerked away, well tried to but the sudden movement caused everything to spin faster, and he nearly lost his footing. He was steadied by the same pair of hands, and his good arm was forced around narrow shoulders.

“Khalid, it's me, be still.” Came the low whisper, and instantly he relaxed— suddenly he felt incredibly heavy.

“By?” He could barely hear himself.

“Yes, it's me. But don't speak right now.”

He couldn't even if he wanted to, his head felt too heavy but simultaneously light, and foggy.

…

His next coherent thought was: _Where are you By?_ And it was only when a soft voice responded did he realize he had spoken it aloud.

“I'm right here Khalid. Are you alright? You passed out, most likely a combination of hunger, and dehydration. The heat, and bloodloss didn't help, but I don't think it was too terrible.”

He groaned and tried to sit up but a painful throb shot through his shoulder and up his neck, he winced. “Damnit— what? What time is it?”

“It’s dawn of the next day. Don't worry, I told His Majesty that you went off with some guests to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” He opened his eyes slowly. “How so?”

She sat beside him in flowing garbs of black and gold, hair loose, and wavy around her shoulders. And despite the frizz that haloed around her head, and the dark shadows that framed her eyes— she was beautiful.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I didn't specify, but he didn't seem suspicious so that's all that matters right?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I was asked to tell you to join them in the Great Hall when I next saw you… would you like me to tell them I never found you? The celebration is still ongoing, so it shouldn't raise alarm.”

“No, no, I should go.” He sat up slowly, doing his best to ignore the spinning that kicked in.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Khalid. You are injured.” She flitted to a small dresser and returned with a cup of water. “Here, can you hold it steady?”

“I'm fine. I don't want to keep His Majesty waiting." He reached for the glass. “Yeah, I think I can.” Despite his confirmation that he could hold it, she kept her hand over his until he managed to down half of its contents.

“I'm sure he can wait a little longer.” She mumbled, placing the glass on the end table. “At least until you eat something.” She retreated back to the dresser, and held up a small dish of food. “I snuck you some food.” She returned, and sat down on the side of his bed. “Are you hungry? I'm sorry the food isn't warm anymore…”

He took the plate from her carefully, his good arm was pretty shaky, and moving the other hurt too much. “That's fine, this is good. Thank you.” He set the plate in his lap with a sigh, then looked over at her. “You bandaged me up, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did my best.” She twisted her hands together. “I hope I didn't cause you too much pain.”

He shook his head. “No, I was out the whole time… and if I _was_ awake, I don't remember anything.”

She seemed to relax. “I see. I suppose that's good.”

“You didn't stay here all night, did you?”

She smiled slightly. “I did.”

“You didn't have—”

“Oh but I did.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I couldn't enjoy the party knowing you needed help.” She scooted closer. “Besides, I don’t mind. I'm not really one for such large crowds. I know I don't really express that… but I'd much rather be with you— or— or somewhere quiet. ”

He laughed dryly. “Oh you really don't need to miss out on anything because of me. I'm not all that entertaining.” The effort to steadily, and cleanly handle the food turned out harder than he anticipated. He leaned his head back against the headboard, it wasn't going to work out without a mess. Maybe he could just get a piece of bread from the kitchens.

“Don't be like that Khalid. It is your birthday, and you passed your trial! **You** are the reason to celebrate.” She shook her head. “I would have no other reason to enjoy this day.”

His face felt warm considerably, was he running a fever? “Ah, you flatter me Byleth…”

“It's only the truth.”

He glanced to the side, wracking his brain for a reasonable distraction, he didn't know what else to say to that! Thankfully, it didn't take him too long to remember. He shifted a bit, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the dragon eye.

He held it out to her. “Here you go, a promise is a promise.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh!” She took it carefully. “Thank you…”

“No, thank _you_. I do believe it— you actually saved me, again.”

“I'm glad, but do not disregard your wounderful accomplishment. Even if the burden was forced on you.”

He glanced to the side. "Yeah... I suppose."

She hummed quietly then reached for the plate, hesitantly. “Um… do you want my assistance? I do not mind.”

“... No, it's alright. I don't want to put you through that.” He forced another laugh. “I'll just… eat later.”

She frowned, and took the plate with renewed confidence. “Don't be silly.” She scooped up some food, and held it out to him.

He stared at her with wide eyes, and she held his gaze. A contest that he was doomed to fail at the start. One, because he could never look directly at her for too long, and two, her will was stronger than his own.

Evidently, he gave in.

Her face melted into such a warm smile when he relented he thought he would melt away himself. Thankfully, she started recounting some events she heard or witnessed on her way to get supplies to tend to his wounds, and later to get the food she was feeding him. To say the least, he was thoroughly distracted.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” She said as she placed the empty plate on the end table.

“Ha.” He breathed, and pulled himself to the edge of the bed. “I need to go see my Father.”

Unprompted, she grabbed his hands, and helped him stand up, her brows knitted together the entire time. “How do you feel?” She asked quietly.

“Better… still got a headache, but I’m pretty sure I can at least walk without falling over.” _Maybe._

“It's still early… you _can_ rest longer.”

“I shouldn't.”

She frowned at him but he shook his head. It wouldn't be wise to leave his father waiting for too long.

“Very well.” She sighed, and released his hands, but he kept one in his hold.

He squeezed it slightly. “Thank you, Byleth. You really are a beloved friend.” He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles gently. Each nick and callous, a tiny detail that he tried to memorize, much like the sound of her laughter or the gleam in her eyes when she told him about a good book. Every small facet of her being enthralled him. Always had. The urge to know every part of what she kept hidden had only increased as of late. To know what thoughts lay hidden behind the iridescent glass that she peered through. To learn just what it was that compelled her to care for him so honestly… so _warmly_ … He was overwhelmed by the tenderness.

His _friend_ … he'd not said it enough! Yet his heart swelled everytime he looked at her for too long, was there a better word?

She'd pulled him out of hell countless times, offered her shoulder when he was lost to darkness, and her ear when he felt most vulnerable. He didn't need anything else, and he wondered if he'd been there for her as much as she was for him…

His chest twisted. His friend that he would more than likely have to stop meeting with soon. Though he had claimed he wouldn't miss an opportunity to meet with her… once he had a wife, she might not think it _proper_ , and it was beneath him to impose his will over others in such a way. He hated how much he tried to change himself to please others, because no matter how much he changed, how much he improved, it was never enough.

 _He_ was never enough. Not for them.

“And, you are far too kind to me…” He trailed his fingers up to her wrist, and grabbed it gently. He held her gaze for a few beats, keeping his grip loose so she could easily pull away. Not that she couldn't overpower him.

He tugged her forward then pressed his hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer into his space. “Thank you… my friend.” He whispered, lips just barely brushing her forehead.

Did she know just how precious she was to him?

He closed his eyes tightly, and pressed a kiss to her skin. “I am blessed to be in your light.”

Her arms were suddenly snaking around him tightly.

He tensed, the soreness that enveloped his body shot dull waves of pain through him, but at the same time, no one had ever held him like this before. His chest was burning, and his throat was a flame.

She seemed to notice his tension and her arms loosed. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—”

He didn't give her the chance to finish, and wrapped his other arm around her as tightly as his shoulder would allow. He was more concerned with the way his eyes stung anyway.

“I need no thanks…” She breathed out, breath tickling the skin of his neck.

A shiver shook through him but he only held her tighter.

His own words sounded so sweet spoken back to him. He felt as if she'd used his own breath to speak those words. If she truly needed it, even if she just wanted it, he would let her take all the air from his lungs. Possibly so much more.

“You being here… it is enough.” She mumbled into his skin, arms tightening more so.

Those words stoked the fire in his throat, how long had he been waiting to hear someone say that? That his presence alone was enough. Despite the ache that it caused his body he made no attempt to loosen his hold on her.

She started rubbing small circles into his back, and he let out a shuddering sigh, he didn't know how much time actually passed, but he knew he couldn't stay here forever.

Though he was loath to lose the contact, he released her slowly, taking a deep breath as he stepped away. The smell of her hair still lingered in his lungs. The breath of the sun, mixed in with the faintest aroma of mint.

Light pink dusted her cheeks, and the smile that curved her lips rendered him speechless.

Their eyes met for a beat longer, but he had places to go. People to please. After another beat, he turned, and left to meet up with his father.

Before the door fully shut behind him he heard hurried footsteps, and she slipped out into the hall, falling into step at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first section was actually my favorite part of this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you everyone leaving me kudos etc. ! ♥♥♥


	5. To Be Happy

The following week was the longest week of his life. Every second felt like a day in and of itself! People who have never so much as glanced at him were now showering him with congratulations, many of whom he had no name for. Someone even congratulated him with a slap on his shoulder— the one still healing. He had a feeling that wasn't an accident. He also bit his cheek so hard as a result he drew blood. Like a proper royal, he laughed it off, and later spiked the brutes rum with some laxatives.

Suffice to say he had grown weary of more than just smiling.

“Pay attention son. I won't go over this again. You need to be present when your suitors arrive.”

He repressed a groan. Did it really matter if he was there or not? The topic of finding him a wife was one of great debate between his parents.

On one hand, they actually both agreed it would be fair to allow him to choose himself, but of all the nobles he knew of in the land— he couldn't think of any he'd actually choose. He didn't know any of them. On the other, his father and in extension, his father's advisors strongly suggested he wed someone of Almyran descent. To, _keep the people happy_ as he often put it as of late.

This angered his mother, who of foregian descent, had a valid reason to be. However, there was also the issue of separating personal conflicts from political conflicts.

“Right.” He sighed heavily, and pulled one of the letters in front of him. A letter detailing dowery, benefits, and other mundane details, much of which he couldn't get past the first few sentences. “Father, it might be best to let you decide.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “If _I_ decide it might not go over well with the people.”

His mother frowned. “That's ridiculous, you have—”

“Mother, it's okay. Really. They love Father, anything he says I'm sure they'll accept— if not begrudgingly, but accept all the same.” He leaned back in the chair.

“Yes, but—”

His father held up his hand. “That's enough. He's made his choice, but I will want him to be present for the meetings.” He said with a note of finality.

His mother huffed out a breath of annoyance.

If Khalid knew his mother at all, she wasn't done with the topic, and would most likely argue with his father later.

What he didn't understand, was why was she so worked up over how fair his life was _now?_ Was it because he passed his test? Was he finally worth something to her? To them? He wanted to know, but he knew asking such a question was out of line if not disrespectful.

“Alright!” He slapped his hands down on the table, and stood up. “Sounds good, just tell me when the meeting starts, and I'll be there!” He bowed his head, and left before they could argue more, or at least in front of him.

His first thought was to look for Byleth, he hadn't seen her outside of business purposes for the whole week. Sparing just enough time to say _good morning_ or _good night_. It would be really nice to enjoy some quiet time…

…

The first place he looked was the library, there weren't too many different places she spent her free time, if she was going to be anywhere off duty— the library was his first bet.

He slipped into the quiet space, and moved over to the aisle he often found her sitting in. A vast section of literature filled to the brim with fantastical tales, many about ages past or what felt like fever dreams of the far, and distant future. Novels, and epics that challenged what was known, what could be, and what was. A way to look into the mind of another, a chance to escape to a far off world. All in the comfort of a mountain of cushions with the light of the summer sun to guide you through.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he indeed found her there, the top of her head the only thing visible above the pile of pillows she lounged in. The light touched her hair, _just so,_ bringing out the wonderous hues that lay hidden beneath. The rarest of gems. He walked up behind her, and placed his hand on her head.

“Boo~”

Slowly, she placed a ribbon in her book, and tilted her head back to look at him. “Oh, hello.”

“That's it?” He smirked. “I know I must have scared you a little.”

She shook her head once. “No. I knew you were there.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Well, I knew someone was there.” She smiled softly. “I knew for sure at least whoever it was wouldn't harm me.” She tilted her head. “But I was positive it was you, I can sense your presence.” She closed the book, and turned to him more. “Besides, this is not the first time you attempt to scare me.” Her eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed. “I heard your footsteps, your attempt was lackluster at best. You've been far closer to success in the past.”

He laughed. “Really? So you admit that I did scare you in the past?” He grinned. “I knew it.”

It was as if the week's struggles were non-existent.

“What? No, I said _close_ to success.” Her lip came out in a pout. “There is a difference.”

“I see.” He chuckled, unable to resist, he let his hand run through her hair. Unsurprisingly, it slipped through his fingers like the finest of silks. “I guess I'll just have to try harder.”

“Hmph. I dare you to try.”

“Ah, don't tempt me, my friend." He leaned down closer to her, "I just might succeed one day.”

A delicate pink dusted her cheeks. “Well, don't be mad if I punch you— on reflex of course.”

“Hmm, it's a deal then.” He snickered some more when she fixed him with a glare. “So, what were you reading?”

“Well, I _was_ reading a wonderful story about a boy that could speak to dragons," she hummed to herself, raising a delicate brow, "but someone saw it fit to interrupt me.”

“That's dreadful, I hope you can forgive such a scoundrel.”

She tapped her chin. “I might be able to, no matter how daunting the task seems… _if_ they do me a favor.”

Subconsciously, he leaned even closer to her. “What does the lady require?” he asked, voice only a whisper.

She sat up, and rearranged the pillows. “It's been getting awfully warm… my hair keeps sticking to my neck. I wasn't sure what to do about it, should I cut it?”

Once she made the space he automatically sat behind her. “Oh, if you really wish it, I can help you with it…” For a moment he reconsidered his sudden boldness, but found himself running his fingers through her hair again. “Though I will be sad to see it go.” He added quieter.

“Do you know a better alternative?” She asked casually, the creak of the book reopening seemingly punctuating her question.

“I… may know a few.” He mumbled, and instinctively started weaving sections of her hair together. Each movement was methodical, along with the steady whisper of her page turning, he quickly fell into a peaceful headspace.

“Hey, Khalid?” She mumbled after some time.

“Hm?”

“If you could be any animal, what would it be?”

“An animal?” It wasn't the strangest of questions, but he was still caught off guard.

“Mhm. I'd be a dragon.”

“We don't even know if they are real.”

She closed her book, and set it aside. “We don't know if they aren't.” She quipped.

“True.” He started on a smaller braid at the side of her head, weaving it into one big one at the back. “Why a dragon though? Is it because of the book?”

“No. Not just because of that. Well, they are in many tales that I've read, but that's beside the point. In these stories, dragons are strong, and independent beings. They can be fierce, but also kind and gentle. Most importantly, they can _fly_.”

He finished up her final braid, and secured it with a ribbon. The way each loop caught the light made him wonder how a dragon's scales might look. Could they contain even half of her beauty? “It sounds fitting. You _are_ very strong.” He let the braid slip through his fingers. _And painfully kind._

“So? What about you?” She turned to face him.

“Hm, well flying does sound great. To easily be able to escape over the mountains… or across the vast sea. Who knows where that would lead.” He leaned back to look out the window, the distant blue of the ocean barely visible over the blurred heat of the afternoon sun.

She smirked. “So, a bird?”

He turned back to her, and laughed. “As long as I'm a pretty bird.” He winked.

“Ugh!” She held her fist in his face. “I'd shove you if you weren't still recovering.”

“Ah, well— you can put it on my tab.”

“Don't push it.” She mumbled, and turned her attention to her hair. “Wow… it's so pretty.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“T’was an honor, M'Lady~” He smirked when she shot him another glare.

“Well! I think you should probably be a dragon too, if anything. After all, if you were a bird I couldn't properly wack you when you annoyed me— not without hurting you.”

He laughed again. “Sounds like that's the only reason.”

She puffed out her cheeks. “Stop teasing.”

“As you wish.” He shrugged, and laid back on the pillows. “As long as I can keep my eyes, I'll be whatever you want me to be.”

“...” Her face grew pink again, and she shook her head, fingers moving up to examine her braid again. “What if I wanted you to be a cat?”

“A cat?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Why not?”

He blinked at her a few times, considering, he couldn't think of a reason _why not_. “Can I keep my wit?”

“You said all you needed was your eyes.” She shook her head. “Can't start changing your terms now.”

He laughed again. “Oh, but you would be terribly bored without it!”

“Hmm, would I?” She asked, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

“Unless you fancy talking to some insipid wet blanket, of course.”

She shook her head solemnly. “No I would rather not.” She reached down, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sounds like that is what you have to do daily, hm?”

“Ha! Especially now with all of my ridiculous meetings.”

She hummed to herself again, and started braiding a section of his hair. “It's kind of like when we were kids, braiding each other's hair.” She mused, eyes focused on her hands. “Except yours is much shorter now.”

“It's longer than it _was_ a few years ago.” He mumbled, voice fading at the end to a whisper.

“Hm, I guess so.” She finished his braid— a call back to one he wore as a teenager. “Do you want to know what will make me really happy? You don't have to, of—”

He answered immediately. “I would love to know.”

She smiled, and tugged on his new braid once. “If you kept this— I've missed it.”

He felt heat rising to his face. “Ah— okay.” He mumbled lamely.

Her smile grew wider, and she turned her attention back to his hair. After a moment her brows pushed together, appearing lost in thought.

He wondered if she was aware of what she was doing. She was never so casual around him, not like this. She didn't really have a reason to touch him. As far as he knew she wasn't distressed either… she was probably just distracted.

She moved on to trace the hair that lined his jaw before trailing back up to his head, only to repeat the gentle action. It would've lulled him to sleep if his heart was not threatening to burst.

He wouldn't mind staying like this forever, he couldn't think of anything he would actually miss if it were so.

She started humming a song he hadn't heard in years, and it only pulled him further into this moment. Was he ever so… at peace?

After some time her hand paused, and she looked back down at him. “How _did_ your meeting go anyway?”

He absently picked at some lint on one of the pillows. “Same way it always goes. Boring, lots of arguing, it's difficult to get a word in when both my parents are hotheads.”

“I see.” She sighed quietly, and removed her hand from him. “Did they— you know, find you anyone yet?”

“No. But the candidates will be arriving in a few days. I told my father to pick whoever he thought was best.”

It would be better if he didn't have a say in such a matter. He couldn't care less for it.

“Oh,” she frowned, “why?”

He sat up with a sigh. “Because I don't know any of the candidates, and it would make more sense if he chose whoever was best for the country.”

“Well, maybe you could get to know them? Aren't they going to be staying in the palace?”

“Eh, I've met a few in the past. During other events that my father hosted. I couldn't really hold a conversation.” He sighed heavily.

“I'm going to be helping them around the palace when they get here. I can try, and talk to them. Maybe I can find out what kind of things they like? Then I can tell Her Majesty which one is better?”

He shook his head. “No, no, you don't have to do that, my friend. I'm sure it will be quite insufferable a task.” He propped his chin up with his hand. “You know it'll actually be best if I _don't_ have a say. It's the best way to keep everyone happy.”

“What about what would make you happy?” She went back to fussing with her braid. “What about your happiness?”

His face twisted into a scowl, and he turned to her fully. “My happiness doesn't matter to them. The only way I could be happy if I was free to—” he sighed. _The only way? And free to do what?_ He had no idea where that was going. He felt so trapped as of late. His only freedom came in moments like this, where he could talk about silly things, wonder about the unknown. It didn't really matter actually what he was doing, so long as she was there too… the question had been haunting him terribly lately. Would they still be able to have _this_ , when he had a wife? He didn't want people to think he was setting her aside, but he also didn't want to lose Byleth…he cared about her far too much.

As for a wife?

He would be happy with someone who could at least value a decent conversation. Appreciating a good book would be a bigger plus, but having the wherewithal to ask _why,_ and seek further information would be anything short of a blessing.

Even if they just enjoyed a warm cup of tea or a challenging board game to pass the time…

But that would be asking for too much, and he would frankly have to thank his favorite star if he ever met anyone like—

_—that._

His heart skipped, and he looked back at her slowly. _His favorite star?_

He covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh no…”

That couldn't be good.

She frowned, and leaned into his field of view. “Are you alright?”

His throat was suddenly too dry.

“Yes, forgive me, my friend… I didn't mean to snap at you like that.” His voice felt like it wasn't his own.

She looked up at him through her lashes. “You know… it matters to me Khalid, _you_ matter to me… If something is troubling you— if you need anything.” She bit her lip, and grabbed his hand. “If you want _anything,_ you need only ask.”

His pulse decided that _now_ was a perfect time to make him go deaf.

He pressed his hand to his forehead, swallowing thickly. He was trying so hard to repress such feelings… it just snuck up on him.

“ _Khalid?_ ”

“Ah, yes?” He avoided eye contact, suddenly too ashamed to look at her. How had he allowed this to happen? She had been so warm, and welcoming to him for so long, and somehow, he perverted their friendship.

Did he even have a right to call her that anymore?

“Are you alright? Is your shoulder acting up?” Her fingers gently brushed over his injury.

He moved away from her. Admitting it to himself felt almost as bad as actually getting punched in the gut, because he couldn't deny it.

He hated the thought of her spending time with her _companions_ — as she had put it— because he was jealous of them. Because they could court her without consequence. If he were to even offer the idea of courting someone not of noble blood— it would end in riot. He couldn't put her in such danger. He would never forgive himself if she got hurt.

That's why he always felt so angry when they mistreated her in some way, because she was so precious to him. How could anyone else not see how wonderful she was? How wonderful she _is?_

“Please look at me, did I offend you? If I did I— forgive me.” Her voice trembled. “I didn't—”

His stomach dropped. “No, no, you didn't.” He turned to her, and reached for her hand but stopped himself. He'd been much too familiar with her… “You could never…I just, I—”

He looked her over quickly.

Her brows were furrowed tightly together, and his eyes were drawn to the way her lips pressed tightly together.

_—I love you._

She must have started speaking to him because he could see her lips move— ever so slightly— but could hear nothing but his own heartbeat. He figured the cards he'd been dealt in life were not the best of hands, however he would have never imagined just how truly terrible they were.

He loved her, and he couldn't have her, and yet—

She leaned in closer to him, brows still furrowed, a question on her lips.

He cupped her face with his free hand, thumb pressing gently over her cheek.

Her grip on his other hand tightened, and he wasn't sure if he pulled her or if she pulled him,

and yet— he was kissing her.

It was like touching fire, a burn that traveled down, and pooled in his stomach. It was slow at first, but he felt an urgency that pushed him further, what it was he couldn't name.

Her lips were smooth, and insistent against his— softer than any flower he'd ever held.

His hand moved to tangle in her hair— surely ruining the braid he had given her— and when he tightened his hold her lips parted with a sigh of his name.

He froze.

_What was he doing?_

He tore himself away from her with widened eyes. What had he done? He only glanced at her briefly, too ashamed to do so any longer. Her eyes were just as wide, lips still parted, and slightly red...

“I'm so sorry!” Dread coiled in his stomach. He should have left when— he shouldn't have even come here.

She shook her head quickly, and rose to her knees. “No, don't apologise— it was— I didn't—”

He bit his lip, and stood. “Don't blame yourself. This— I shouldn't have…” He chanced a glance at her, shame eating him from the inside out. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” She mumbled, eyes downcast. “I understand…”

His heart ached, did she really understand? Should he dare to explain his hesitations?

Footsteps rounded the corner, and they both looked up to see one of the palace servants standing there. “Ahem, pardon me Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence at the gates. One of the minor kings has arrived early,” he sniffed, and adjusted his gloves, “with your potential brides.”

“Right…” He glanced back at Byleth, but she wasn't looking at him. He bit his lip, and moved to follow the man. “Goodnight…” he said to her softly. He probably won't see her for the rest of the afternoon.

She kept her eyes trained on the bookshelf behind him. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

He forced a smile before making his leave, and though he walked, he felt as if he were running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)?


	6. Familial Love

The dining hall, and the drawing room were the two rooms he was in the most the last five days. It was dull, but definitely not the worst he'd been through. However, what really made him hate it was, if he didn't get there early, a servant would come to fetch him, when before no one would ever come to get him apart from Byleth.

It had been five days, and a whole afternoon since he’s even _seen_ her.

For all he knew, she might not even be on the palace grounds! No matter how he looked at it, there was no one to blame for that but himself. If he would have just kept his emotions in check he wouldn't have driven her away. Now every time he thought about it his stomach would twist, and his heart would ache. Was there ever a time where he went so long without _at least_ knowing her whereabouts? Five days might not seem long, but it felt like ages to him. Especially after what had happened…

He pressed his fist into his forehead, he was so stupid! He shouldn't have ever done anything, if he hadn't then she wouldn't be missing right now. He’d even been to her room once to see if she was in, but she wasn't.

It was killing him.

On top of all that he thoroughly believed his father entertained far too many guests, all the nobles, and minor Kings that presented their daughter or daughters to them had a similar argument.

Each offered a varied amount of supposed gifts, and boons they could provide the royal house. Wealth was discussed to a point to where it gave him a headache. The ability to provide _multiple_ strong heirs was also a topic that was lingered heavily on. During this he could just feel the displeasure radiating off of his mother. Even more so when emphasis was put on the fact that these women were indeed Almyran.

His mother was a powerhouse in her own right, having taken down plenty of challengers when she first declared her union with his father. It was rare, nearly unheard of, but she wasn't necessarily the first foreign queen consort. She _was_ however the first in their current dynasty. Though she was foregien, she was still of noble blood, so the union was still allowed—even if it was disliked.

He'd heard the rumors, many believed she should have only been a mistress if anything, having only produced a single heir— many thought her to be barren.

Apparently she had threatened to return home if his father _did_ take a mistress. That was the one merit Khalid could give his father fairly. He respected her enough that he adhered to that wish. Much to the dismay of the court.

His father didn't seem all that privy to the underhanded jabs that were tossed around, and by the time the sun hit its highest point— it's rays shining parallel to the ground through the skylight in the room they sat in— his mother was seething.

“My daughter's a fantastic candidate! She is an excellent shot, her sword arm is astounding, and she has been blessed by the goddess of fertility!” The gruff man gestured to where said daughter sat, and she bowed her head when they turned to her.

A pretty young woman with long dark hair, and abundantly curved features— something his mother lacked, being tall and slight in frame.

Khalid felt a little guilty he had not been paying attention when they introduced her name, but he didn't like the way she sucked up to his father.

They started droning on about her achievements, and other talents. She sounded like quite the accomplished warrior.

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, looking over the paperwork again for the _nth_ time. In the margins of the letter he started drawing in a mint leaf, and a few stars.

 _‘I wonder if she can spell: accomplishment.’_ He mused to himself with a smirk. Though he was aware he shouldn't be thinking such things, he was tired and couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

An advisor slid over, and whispered in his father's ear. Khalid was just close enough to hear the man's hissing.

“Majesty, consider this— it may be a good idea to choose one of them, and have the rest stay as mistresses. Just in case the children came out— weak or of ill health.”

He heard what remained unspoken, _in case they came out like him_. It was apparently a miracle he survived at all, having been born as silent as the grave. Though the constant threats to his life definitely didn't help. He scowled. A miracle indeed.

His father had five candidates, _five_ , he had trouble coming to terms with accepting one as his wife— but to allow four more people?? These people weren't objects meant for trade, and barter! They were people with consciouses of their own! Consiouses that may or may not even like each other either. Never mind the expectation that he would have to bed _all_ of them— cause who cared what he thought, right?

He sent the old man a glare, he never liked him, and he hoped his father wouldn't be so easily swayed, but doubt was a heavy cloud, and people often crumbled when the future was painted to be bleak or uncertain.

His father pulled at his beard in thought. “We'll discuss more about the matter later.” He stood, signifying the end of the meeting.

His mother shot to her feet as well, wasting no time in shooing everyone else out of the chamber with false smiles, and barely contained fury.

He chose that time to leave as well.

“Alright,” he stood, and rearranged the papers in front of him, but did little to actually organize the pile. “I have to get going.” Letting the chair screech against the tile— just to irk the advisors that stood over his father's shoulders— he stood, and gave a short bow before heading to the door.

“Son, where are you going?” His father called after him.

“I'm going for a walk.” Was all he said before the heavy doors slammed behind him.

Perhaps he could catch Byleth in the kitchens somewhere… if she was still around.

He _had_ told her she could leave whenever she wanted to… his throat burned, and he swallowed the lump that formed. He was just hoping she would at _least_ say goodbye to him…

It was bad enough that he already— pathetically— had trouble sleeping at night wondering what became of her, if she really did leave without a farewell—

From his right Nader was leaning against the wall, and on seeing him, he approached him with a grin.

“Well, well! Look who it is!” He had the courtesy to punch his good shoulder. “Things have been so hectic I never got to properly congratulate you! I knew you could do it, congratulations!”

He sighed, and rubbed his shoulder, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of the burn that had settled. “Keep your voice down Nader, I hope you haven't been drinking already…”

“Bah, I wish I did.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Just had to escort those idiots out.” He shook his head. “I feel bad for their children! Too bad education is not as valued as strength.”

“The people here value education.” He sighed, and started down the hall.

Nader followed. “Yes, but it is not a fifty fifty, more like— like seventy thirty. Or less. Those guys make me think I'm being generous.”

He laughed. “You might be right. Hell, if that were the case— these people might actually love me. I'd like to think I'm pretty smart.”

“Smarter than most of us here.” He grumbled. “So, what do you think of the women? Any catch your eye?”

“They all looked like nice people.”

“That's it?”

His earlier discovery flitted to the forefront of his mind, _where was she?_ “Do you know where Byleth is?”

“You lost her?”

He shot the older man a glare. He was not in the mood for whatever joke he was trying to pull. “Nader. Have. You. Seen, Byleth?”

“Alright, sheesh.” He held his hands up in surrender. “She volunteered to deliver an important letter to the town over a few days ago. She should be back sometime today if she isn't already.”

He slouched in on himself. At least he had an idea of where she could be now, and if she was returning today— hopefully he could talk to her… about, well he could tie up the loose ends. Hopefully they could remain friends…

“I see, thanks.”

“No problem, kiddo. Though I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Attached at the hip, you two are! Though I guess it was an urgent letter. Your uncle seemed pretty frazzled about getting a reliable courier. ” Nader shook his head, and crossed his arms. “But, c’mon, you've got to give me a better answer than that.”

Khalid looked at him, confused. “A better answer than what?”

“About your potential bride!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want me to say, Nader? I'm really not into any of this. I don't want to complain. I hate to seem disrespectful, but I don't want… this. I thought that maybe, just, maybe if I could prove myself to my parents they might finally look me in the damn eye. Maybe give me a year to at least _breathe._ Of course it was just one more expectation after another. I could have fucking _died,_ and my father didn't even bat an eye.” he raked a hand through his hair, messing up his poor attempts to tame it. He sighed, and stopped walking to face him. “And now I've said too much.”

They stood in silence for a while, until Nader cleared his throat.

“Don't worry about that, kiddo.” He waved him off. “I wouldn't want it either. I was really proud of you, you know— _am_ really proud of you!” He placed his hand on his good shoulder. “You've come so far, and it's amazing.”

His throat was suddenly burning for a different reason. He felt so small, and it wasn't because his mentor was taller than him, no.

“Man! You should have seen me, I jumped up so quickly from my chair to cheer, knocked into your father, and spilled his drink in his lap!” He threw his head back to laugh loudly.

It wasn't hard to imagine that— he _had_ heard the loud hollering— he really wished he had seen the look on his Father’s face. A sight smile tugged at his lips. “Sounds fun.”

He nodded, then fixed him with a serious look. “I know I don't have kids myself, but if I did— well, I'd tell ‘em not to be afraid to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” he asked, brow raised.

Nader nodded, “The world is too greedy to waste all of your energy on. Best use it on yourself now and then.”

Where was the rush of kindness coming from? This was the second time he ever heard such sincerity in his voice— aimed for him— and he didn't know what to make of it!

“What's gotten into you Nader? If you're not careful, people might think you're going soft.”

He threw his head back again, and barked out a louder laugh. “I dare anyone to test that out!!” His shoulders shook, but he sobered quickly. “I'm just— I've been thinking a lot.”

Eager to relieve some of the tension in the air he smirked, “Oo, careful.” If Nader kept going he might have to excuse himself.

That got him a slap on the back. “Cheeky bastard!”

He stumbled forward. “Ow, ugh, alright, sheesh…”

“Anyway… I've been thinking a lot about this.” He gestured around. “About myself, them, you.” He sighed, and tugged at his beard. “These people don't deserve you, I'm not sure if they ever would.”

He was taken aback, yet again. “Wow Nader… I don't know what to say.”

“Just promise me you'll worry more about yourself.”

He sighed, and shrugged. “I don't know. I feel like I do enough of that already.” _Isn't that the reason why Byleth wasn't talking to him?_

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Anyway, that reminds me. I wanted to thank you. For everything I guess. You gave me the tools to defend myself, you were always patient with me. Even if you were pretty strict. You tolerated me when not many would. Especially when I wasn't very pleasant to be around… You're honestly, one of the reasons I stand here now.” He smiled slightly when he thought back to the compliments he had just given him.

He was proud of _him??_ There was still a part of him waiting for the joke, but it never came.

“So, thank you. And… no matter what happens in the future, I want you to know, you've been more a father to me than— anyone.”

A loud sniffle was all he heard before his face was being crushed into his chest, and he got a full helping of aged _, undefeated_ warrior shoved up his nose.

“Gah, hey— watch my arm!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He loosened his hold, but didn't release him.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, hands stuck between wanting to push him off, and—

He returned his hug, however awkward it felt, but the wave of emotion hit him again, and he had to blink it away. “Alright, alright, don't get too sappy on me now. Where's that fearless warrior?” He patted his back a few times.

He released him, and grinned. “What do you mean?? He never left!!” He slapped his chest, and laughed again.

“Right, well I must be off. I need to get some fresh air.” He made a show of straightening his clothes, and clearing his throat. “Don't let this get to your head.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, _boy!”_ Nader scoffed, but the twinkle in his eyes softened the delivery tenfold.

Just not the volume.

Khalid winced, and covered his ears. Rolling his eyes he hurried off outside, before he was yanked into another bear hug.

He definitely needed fresh air after that.

…

He walked around the palace grounds for some time but he was never able to actually relax. His mind kept spinning back to, well everything. The too emotional conversation with his mentor, the annoying persistence from his daily meetings, and Byleth…

How could he fix things with his most precious friend? Would they ever be able to get back to normalcy? But then again, what even was that?

He was trying to find a quiet place to sort everything out, but after a few uncomfortably formal run-ins with members of the court he changed into plain clothes, and fled into the city.

Ever since he was little he always wanted to be accepted, he tried so hard to achieve that, but he always came short. Somehow he was always lacking. And when finally, _finally,_ he thought he'd crossed that threshold, finally proven himself— his parents hardly acknowledged it. Even his mother could do nothing more than offer a dry smile.

It left him weary, physically, mentally, emotionally. He barely got to rest before he was thrust into another sea or endless expectations. The worst part? He was complicit to it all, let it run over him, heartless, and consuming. Like a wildfire swallowing the crops— how much longer before there was nothing left? Until he was an empty husk.

Was he really going to spend his whole life trying to reach something that just couldn't be achieved?

He stopped by a small stall stocked with different odds and ends, the merchant a weathered old man with gray hair.

“Interested in anything, young man?” he asked in a voice that shook.

He looked over the man's wares in silence. There was a variety of different incense, teas, an assortment of chocolates, a bag of arrowheads, some worn looking boots, and a helmet that had seen better days. Hanging just behind the man, nearly completely hidden within the drapery that blocked out the sun was a dagger as brilliant as the night sky.

“How much for that?” He nodded to the weapon.

The man turned to look then back to him. “That? Much too much for you, young man. 'Sides, I already got a buyer queued up.”

“Is that so? May I at least hold it?”

The man eyed him for a moment, and with a grumble, reached for the dagger, and handed it to him.

His eyes went wide in surprise, he didn't think he would allow him to, especially without a fight. “Oh, uh thank you, sir.” The handle was sleek, and trimmed with gold, a small sun decorated the center of the handle. He turned to inspect the blade carefully, it was even prettier in the light. The blade was as blue as the scabbard that covered it, somehow more so. If he looked close enough, he swore the blade shimmered.

Like starlight.

He wanted it.

“Bah, you've got an honest face.” The man sat back on his crate, a string of mumbled complaints under his breath.

“Really?” He set the dagger back on the rickety table. “Most would say otherwise.”

He waved him off. “Most aren't as well traveled as I.”

“I see… well that's nice to hear.” He looked over his table once more. “I'll tell you what, sir. I'll pay double for the dagger. Whatever you were offered from your buyer, I'll pay double.”

The man's eyes widened. “Eh?? What are you? A mercenary? Where would you get that kinda coin?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I'm more of— a wayward soul.”

“Hmm, who's it for?”

“What?”

He motioned to the dagger. “The dagger, who you gettin’ it for?”

“Ah, is it so unbelievable that I would want it for myself?”

“The blade’s too pretty for you. 'Sides,” he tapped his head. “This ol’ man’s got good intuition. I've been around. Seen some shit.”

He laughed. Definitely didn't expect the first reason by a long shot. “Well, I can't argue that. I do have hopes to gift it to someone.”

He nodded, a hand combing through his beard. “A woman?”

“Mighty presumptuous of you, sir.”

“Am I wrong?”

He could only gape at him silently, because he _wasn't_ wrong. The moment he saw it he thought of Byleth. It would look perfect in her hands… it would also be a good excuse to actually go looking for her. He didn't confirm or deny anything.

The man chuckled, and continued unperturbed. “It would be fitting, rumor has it, the blade is made of a goddess's tears.”

“Do you believe such a thing?”

“No way to know.” He shrugged, and cleared his throat. “Well? You gonna buy it or not?”

He blinked at him for a moment then offered up the money he promised. “Thank you, sir.”

He wrapped the dagger in a worn sack then handed it to him. “Yeah, yeah, you amused me. Now skedaddle before your posh people realize you're gone.”

“... Excuse me?” Dread shot through him, did he recognize him?

“I ain't daft, kid. You're too polite to be a mercenary, speak too well to be one o’ these people.” He motioned around him. “You're definitely some Lord's kid, ain't you? If you're tryna blend in, lose some of 'em extra words in your sentences.”

He laughed, and secured the bundle to his hip. “Thank you. I'll definitely keep that in mind, you have a good day.” He wasted no more time, and escaped into the crowd.

 _At least he didn't recognize me_ . He thought with a sigh, but he couldn't help but wonder if he _had_ , would he be as pleasant with him?

Maybe everyone wasn't so bad, but he doubted he'd meet anyone as cordial in court. People there were too eager to tear out the throats of their own blood.

He spent the next few hours wandering aimlessly through the different streets. A few times he thought he saw someone familiar in the crowd, but whenever he would look again they were gone.

He started to get uneasy so he decided it was best to return. If someone _was_ following him, he at least didn't want to be around any kids if something happened.

Dusk was quickly setting in when he finally made it back to the road that led to the palace. The ground was finally starting to cool, the sun no longer beating down on it, but that also meant it was getting dark. He kept looking over his shoulder. Each time he looked, he saw nothing, but the feeling of being followed continued to haunt him.

He quickened his pace until he turned the corner, and a tall, hooded figure stood, blocking his path. He was almost surprised.

“You make this too easy.” A gruff voice snapped. “Save me the trouble of breaking into your room.”

 _Shit_ , why didn't he bring a better weapon with him? He pulled out his own dagger.

“Don't even think about it, I've got archers hidden— or do I?” The man laughed, and stalked forward. “Can't know for sure till you got an arrow in your head, hm?” He pointed a sword at him, and motioned off-road. “Get moving.”

He tightened his grip on his dagger, if he was quick, he might be able to take him down, or distract him with enough time to make a run for it… something sharp poked his injured shoulder from behind. And while it wasn't a bleeding wound anymore, it was still very sore. He flinched, and hissed out a curse, turning to his side to keep both angles in view. There were two more men behind him, each with a sword of their own.

“Oo? A tender spot? Wonder how you got that. I won't tell you again, get moving.” He stepped forward, and snatched the dagger from his hand.

He swore again, but slowly moved off road. He had to think fast, he was outnumbered, and somehow they knew of his injury. Granted, they could have been spectators from the ceremony— or participants, he thought grimly. On top of that, what looked like the leader threatened him with possible archers.

Things weren't looking good.

What did they want? Money? Revenge? If it was the latter… he couldn't think of how he'd get out of that.

“What do you guys want?” He asked, but was only answered with another jab in the shoulder, this one enough to break the skin. He inhaled sharply, and grit his teeth. “I'm sure I'm worth more to you alive than dead.”

The one in front of him stopped, and turned to him. “Trust me. You really, **aren't**.”

He stopped walking. He was just close enough that he recognized his face. “Wait, you're—”

An elbow swung towards his face but he ducked, one of the men behind him kicked the back of his legs, and he fell to his knees. A large, and dirty boot kicked him in the face and he fell on his back.

“Oh, _now_ you remember me?” He kicked his side. “Just like old times, right? _Cousin.”_ He spit on his face with the word.

He groaned, and wiped his face with the back of his hand, blood already flowing from his split lip. “I best you in fair combat!” He struggled to stand but was kicked to the ground again. “Now you come at me with your goons?” Despite himself, he smirked. “You have no honor. _You're a disgrace_.”

“Fair my ass!” He snapped his fingers, and one of his men stabbed him through his injured shoulder.

He cried out in pain, but shoved his fist against his mouth to stifle the rest of it.

“I have no doubt you cheated somehow! I refuse to believe you actually got as far as you did, let alone best me!?” He started pacing. “No, I refuse to believe it. We made sure that the order of the opponents would tire you out!”

He scowled. Why was he surprised that there was an actual plot against him? He stayed on the ground, but carefully dug into his pocket. The dagger he purchased was still secured… if he could get it out…

“I was supposed to be next in line you know. They picked _me!_ Out of everything, they collectively agreed I was to be next. It was an honor! Why do you think my father named me after one of the great kings!? Your disgusting mother couldn't produce a proper child, so I was named the heir! I wasn't concerned when you were born, everyone thought you'd die like the rest.” He started kicking him again.

He recoiled at the pain but just grit his teeth, if not for the cover of dark they would have noticed him reaching into his pocket by now.

“But you just had to survive.” He muttered darkly to himself. “Then that witch killed my father's closest friends! We could never really get you alone after she came along!”

He froze. Was he talking about…

“But don't worry. I'll take care of that wench when I'm done with you. I'll make her beg for death. Sending her away was easier than I expected!” another kick in the ribs. “My Father said she was actually _eager_ to go!”

He scowled again, and grit his teeth.

The letter Nader had mentioned she was delivering was just a ploy?? Apparently she didn't even question the letter either, not that there could have been a reason to. He still felt slighted though, even if it was his fault.

There was still the chance that he'd be shot for trying anything, but he wasn't going to just sit around, and wait for death. Even if she didn't want to talk to him anymore, he had to let her know not to trust these people. He needed to make sure she was safe. Dagger finally in hand, he waited till Shapur had his back turned then he shoved himself into his men.

They were caught off guard, and he was able to knock one of them down, he used the hilt of his dagger to knock the man unconscious then he stole his sword.

The other swung at him just as Shapur turned back around, a snarl ringing behind him.

He dodged in time for the goon’s sword to cut his cousin across the chest, not very deep, but the damage was done— he howled out in pain or rage Khalid wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

His cousin lunged at his comrade, and Khalid used that window to escape.

He was only a few meters away when something hit his back, just barely missing his spine. He stumbled a bit but otherwise kept moving, either he was too numb at the moment to register much, or the overall pain he felt was too much to take note of the new pain that came with it. He didn't stop to inspect it. If he paused for a moment, he might not make it back…

He wasn't sure how fast he was actually running, but his head started to spin, and throb painfully. All he could do was keep going, he had to thank the stars that there were actually no archers positioned anywhere…

He pressed his hand against his shoulder to attempt to lessen the blood flow, but the action only made him dizzy, waves of nausea swam through him. Then he finally registered the warmth consuming his back.

He was literally stabbed in the back!

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he nearly lost his footing. The dizziness, the shaking that was now pulsing through him, he was poisoned— his dagger…

The palace gates finally came into view, and someone started running towards him.

He faltered, and scrambled to raise the sword he still held. Did his cousin have other men stationed around? Fear bubbled up under him for a second, but he dropped the weapon when he saw who it was.

Byleth didn't even stop when she reached him, in two motions she snatched the sword from the ground, and scooped him up in her arms. The sudden orientation change did little to help the pounding in his head, and the nausea ran his blood cold.

He would be embarrassed to be held like this if he didn't feel so ill.

She ran up the path, and flew past the other guard that stood at the gate.

His surroundings started blurring together too heavily for him to keep track of his whereabouts. Doors were slammed so loudly he thought his head would explode, and his chest was suddenly on fire.

Alarm bells were going off in his head, he knew these symptoms, if it got any worse—. He needed to tell Byleth what had happened, how much time he had, but no matter how hard he tried to speak it only made it harder for a coherent thought to actually surface.

Where was he? And just what was that loud insistent clicking? Footsteps? Talking?

.

Falling into darkness turned out to actually be peaceful, because all at once everything stopped hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days/ chapters left! Ahhhh!
> 
> Thank you to everyone! You guys really make my day!


	7. Anywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I go searching for music to find that might fit. I literally typed in my chapter name while editing and lo and behold! 
> 
> "Anywhere" by Evanescence. 
> 
> I didn't know this song was a a thing! It's too perfect. 

He opened his eyes to the smell of spiced tea, and faded incense. The room was bright, the sun having had enough time to turn his cheek a dull pink.

He narrowed his eyes to lessen the brightness as he slowly turned his head to survey the room—his room as it turned out to be.

The sun cast everything in golden hues, and illuminated the specks of dust that danced through the air. Everything was so quiet, and he felt heavy, turning his head alone was straining.

To his side he spotted Byleth kneeling at his bedside, her head resting on the mattress, eyes closed.

He tried to reach for her but stopped. If she was still upset with him, he didn't want to cross anymore lines.

There was a pang in his chest, how long had she been there? Did she at least have a pillow under her knees? Did she eat anything? Did she get to rest her back at all?

He tried to speak, but the energy to summon his voice was impossible to find. His throat was dry, and a dull pain was also present in his shoulder, and in his back. Most of all he was just, tried.

Tired of far too much, and maybe not enough.

He felt groggy still, and despite the sudden jolt of pain that shot through him, he forced himself to sit up. He must have stared at the wall for a long time before he finally managed to actually get out of bed, because he thought so much that when he finally stood he didn't remember anything that had gone through his head. The first step was steady, but the second not so much— and almost collapsed. The room spun momentarily, he had to steady himself on the bedpost.

Once everything was still again he shuffled off to the connecting room.

Judging by his ragged appearance in the mirror, about two or three days passed. It was a struggle to even wash his face with the way his hands shook from weakness.

He glanced at the small blade on the counter. He _had_ wanted to clean up a little better, but he didn't want to accidentally cut his face— he'd just have to deal with the gruff look for a while. His hair was a lost cause right now, as he couldn't raise his arms long enough to brush it. Despite it being a small issue, irritation burned within him. He was so sick of being, injured, sick of being targeted, feeling helpless, sick of **being** helpless. He could barely speak. He couldn't even brush his damn hair!

Begrudgingly he finished up what he could, and made his way back into his bedroom.

Byleth was still asleep, and thankfully she did at least have a cushion under her knees, but he knew she'd still be sore when she woke.

The goal was to get back in bed, but he ended up sitting on the floor with his head leaning against it instead. He closed his eyes, and sighed heavily.

How much longer was this going to last? Would he be able to recover completely before the next incident? If so many people rallied behind his cousin, there would definitely be another one. Apart from Nader, and— and Byleth, he couldn't trust anyone. If not his own family then definitely not some woman he was expected to wed. His cousins never liked him anyway, and he was done taking chances.

He was _done_.

He stared at the wall until the sun had fallen far enough to miss his window. He thought too much, and still he had more questions than answers.

What became of his cousin? Did he escape? Would he come back for him? Would his father actually believe him if he told him his favorite nephew tried to murder his son— multiple times?

An ugly bitterness writhed beneath his skin, he probably wouldn't believe him…

A soft gasp pulled him back to his surroundings, but he didn't move.

“Your Highness?” Shuffling followed, and he could hear her joints crack. “Where are you??” the panic in her tone hurt him more than any wound could, but still he remained silent.

A few moments later she rushed from the beside but stopped when she saw him sitting there. Her eyes widened.

A faint, “Hi.” was all he managed. It was terribly soft, and he wondered if she heard him because she continued to stand there in silence.

Her eyes widened further, “Oh— Oh my… you're awake.” She croaked, then she crouched down. “I… I thought…” Her eyes scanned him quickly, a frown on her lips. “What are you doing down here?”

He could do nothing but stare at her. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start. His head was also pounding still, and he felt if he spoke it might make it worse. Strangely enough, her voice didn't hurt his head at all. In fact it was soothing.

She disappeared somewhere behind him, then came back with a cup of tea before sitting in front of him. “You were poisoned… I found your dagger in your back… I'm lucky— **you're** lucky you taught me this stuff.” She looked over him again, and held the cup out. “Drink this please… I've been keeping a fresh pot of it ready for you— for whenever you woke up. It should help your strength.”

He remained silent, his head still felt so empty. He'd been poisoned by his own hand! Imagine that! He couldn't help the laugh that followed, but it was short, and dry. If he had brought a different dagger with him, perhaps he wouldn't be in such a state. If he had stayed inside he wouldn't be in this state at all… though his cousin did mention breaking into his room… so perhaps it was a good thing? Maybe the plan was to slit his throat while he slept.

She set the cup aside, and moved closer to him. “Can you hear me?” Her brows furrowed, and she hesitantly placed her hand against his face, turning his head towards her. “Khalid?” Her eyes watered, and she pressed her thumb into his cheek, shaking him gently. “Oh stars… Khalid, please speak to me.”

“I'm sorry.” He finally choked out, louder this time. His voice was nearly as ruff as his throat felt. Like there was a bunch of gravel stuck inside.

She reached for the cup again, and held it out. “I added herbs here that are meant to help your healing process, and help to remove any remaining toxins. I promise it is safe,” she looked back down at the cup then took a sip of it, “see?”

His heart broke. Had he made it seem like he didn't trust her? Or did his previous actions really ruin their friendship so severely? He took the cup from her slowly, and drank some of it. He almost recoiled. It was strong, he didn't expect it to be so, but she did say she added stuff to it. If it was what he was thinking, then he should have known it would be unpleasant. It did warm his insides, and he made sure to finish all of it before he set the cup down. A shiver passed through him as everything settled, and he sat up fully. His senses were definitely awake after that, and thankfully whatever fog that had blanketed his mind was starting to clear.

“Byleth,” he cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “I'm really sorry, I really—”

She frowned. “No, don't— don't you dare apologize. This isn't your fault.” Her eyes darkened, and her voice lowered. “Who was it?” Her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. “I won't let them get away with this, I'll— I'll cut their tongue from their putrid mouth. I'll mount their head on a spike for all to see, I'll tear off their bal—”

He placed his hand over hers, “Byleth, it's okay,” he smiled wryly, “you don't have to hurt anyone. I'm okay.”

“It's not okay, Khalid!” Her voice shook, and she closed her eyes tightly. “They will only try again! Others will if not them. They always try again!”

“It's my fault I'm in such a bad state.” He tilted her chin up so he could look at her fully. “It's like when I accidentally ingested that stuff I made when I was seventeen. Remember? You found me in such a terrible mess.” He smiled. “I was sprawled out on the floor, and everything!”

“Is not the same, this is different!” She bit her lip. “You weren't gonna die back then. I—I almost— you almost _died_.” She shook her head. “Khalid, who did this to you? Please… I must know. I have suspicions, but I must hear it from you.” She whispered, voice shaky.

“It doesn't matter Byleth. There's no use in—”

She jumped to her feet. “How could you say such a thing!?” She raked a hand through her hair, and it was only then did he realize how unkempt it was. “I almost lost you! Does that not matter to you??” She rubbed her face, “I don't know how much longer I can— I can't— I can't—”

“Of course it matters to me…but you don't need to kill in my name. I'm here now, I'm alright…" Softly, hesitantly, he added, "That matters, right?”

She looked down at him with a frown, but quickly knelt before him, and grabbed his hand, pressing it against her cheek. “It matters, it does. I was so scared, I—I've never known a world without you in it…for as long as I've been, you've breathed, and smiled—” She looked down, tears started building up in her eyes again. “How can you be so forgiving?”

He looked over her quickly, then gently tugged her towards him. “Come here.” He mumbled quietly.

She nodded, and released his hand. What he didn't expect was for her to settle in on his lap. She wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head down on his good shoulder.

His heart swelled, and he was quick to pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her. One hand moved up to smooth her hair, the other he tightened around her waist.

She nuzzled into his neck. He felt her tears hit his skin, and her body shook faintly.

A wave of emotion hit him all at once. He'd never seen her so vulnerable before, not like this. “Oh, By,” he murmured into her hair, then placed a kiss on her head. “I love you.” he held her tighter, and kissed her again, “I really do.”

_So much._

He felt her tense up, and panic shot through him. He didn't mean for that to come out _now._

She sat up slowly to look at him. “You… you do?” Her eyes were wide, cheeks tear stained.

He couldn't help but cradle her face in his hands, gently he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe her face. “Yes.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I do, with everything that I am. I have for so long now.”

“Is that why you kissed me back?” She whispered, surprise clear in her tone.

He blinked at her for a moment. She spoke as if _she'd_ kissed him first. “Of course it is… I wanted to tell you then, but I let everything hold me back, I was so worried about losing you, and when I didn't see you at all this week...” He brushed his nose against hers. “I could hardly sleep.”

She smiled fully, and he thought his heart would stop right then, and there. “I tried for so long to find someone who could make me smile as you do,” she said, “but I do believe that's impossible. There is none like you. I ache, and I bleed inside to see you drift away from me… I hate to see you go. To watch while others try to take you away…Knowing I can never— that I can't— have you. I am not of noble blood, and I am different from you. No matter the title I can claim…” She laughed, lightly, almost bitterly.

He instinctively held her tighter.

“I never got to properly respond to our— moment. There was so much I wanted to say. Even before, on your birthday, when you called me your friend, the way you said it, my heart was ready to burst! But I was afraid I might have read too much into it, and I've realized now that I might have never gotten the chance to say anything at all! I was so afraid of what could happen that I ran away. That note I delivered… It was part of this plan,” she frowned, “I know that now, I know it was Shapur, I found his father's sigil on the sword you were holding. I made sure I picked it up. I could see the hatred in his eyes burn when you beat him in the tournament.” She grit her teeth. “These last two days have nearly killed me. You, your soul, you are beyond beloved to me. I love being in your presence… I crave to see you smile… laugh. I've missed you so much. I love you too, Khalid…my life. I— I want to, I want you to know my heart, how deeply it beats for you.”

He was filled with a myriad of things, disbelief, relief, his own love for her. How foolish he felt. Surely he must be dreaming, a fever dream perhaps… Her, in all of her immense kindness, and strength, loved someone like him? Her declaration had swept any, and all words out of his breath, he didn't know what to say!

Slowly, he brushed her new tears away, and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers, kissing her softly.

A rush of warmth spread through him when their lips touched. It was short, and chaste but his heart behaved as if it were anything but.

She pulled away to look at him, and her smile was so bright he could hardly find his voice. “Let me take you away from all of this, Khalid. Please? I've been wanting to ask you for such a long time, but I— I didn't want to ruin anything.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid anything louder would disrupt something. “I'll go with you, my friend… anywhere.”

“We can leave tonight, if you want… if you think you can walk.” She moved to stand up. “I'll have to grab some supplies, but I promise to be quick. I'll find a safe spot that you can recover in, and then from there, wherever…” She grabbed his hands, and pulled him to his feet. She didn't release him until she had him sitting on the edge of the bed. “I'll get you something to eat if you're feeling alright. I know you must be hungry.”

He only nodded once before she was moving to the door. He was reluctant to let her go, even now, and held her hand until he couldn't reach her anymore.

She was back as quick as she'd promised with a plate of food, and a change of clothes over her arm. “Are you sure you don't want me to go after them?” She mumbled, and climbed on the bed behind him.

He ate quietly for a few minutes then shook his head. If his cousin was right, she had already killed two people because of him. As far as he knew she hadn't taken anyone else's life… he didn't want her to kill out of hatred like that. “Yes I'm sure, you said yourself you collected the sword.”

“I gave it to Nader.” She carefully started brushing his hair.

He sighed quietly, her touch was so gentle that he had to take a moment to relax. How did she always know what he needed? He was so grateful for her. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew that if he had to. “Then there's no more reason to involve ourselves.” he said honestly.

There wasn't. Nader was no fool, he would put the pieces together. There was no reason for Byleth to get any more blood on her hands.

Especially if they were leaving. It would be best if no one else saw much of them.

She finished up then moved back to the door. “Very well… I'll be back then. If you're able to, change into those clothes. I just need to get a few more things.”

He nodded, and she helped him stand again, despite his assurances that he was steady on his own. Only when he finally gathered the clothes in his arms did she deem him stable enough to leave him again.

He shrugged out of his shirt but paused to examine himself in the mirror. His entire upper torso was wrapped in clean bandages, and he had to wonder if Byleth took care of him all on her own. He couldn't help but feel guilty over it. He never wanted to make her worry again.

The rest of him was covered in fresh bruises, and old scars. Unlike most— unlike his mentor, his scars weren't from heroic battles or bouts of bravery. They were scars of a child who wanted nothing more than to belong in a world that didn't want him.

For most of his life, he tried his best to be careful, to fit in, and as he got older he only tried harder.

The world only scarred him deeper.

But he never really needed to, did he? There was already a place that he belonged, and he couldn't be happier.

He laughed to himself. How long were they keeping such a thing from each other?

Off-handedly he had considered leaving, wondered what his life would be like if he left everything behind… but he hadn't acted on it, not after the first attempt. But the thought would always flicker back now and again. Even as recently as in the library…

He'd be abandoning so much, but at the same time, was he really going to miss any of it?

Once he was finished changing he carefully moved over to his desk. He would miss Nader. There was no doubt about that… but maybe he could reach out to him. The man often went out of the palace on missions, and other duties… that only left his mother…

He dug for some parchment and ink.

Would she even miss him?

Would she notice his absence?

Despite it all, despite her cold exterior… he cared for her. Even though she rarely looked at him, she hardly touched him. Was she afraid to get too close to him? Did she fear losing him so much that she refused to smile at him? Did she forget to care? Forget to make that connection?

He shook his head. Funny how that worked out… If that were the case, her fear of losing him— if she had treated him differently he couldn't help but wonder where he would be now.

Now that he actually was leaving, he found the only thing that held him back was _what ifs_ . But he knew better, _she'd_ taught him better.

_The world was dark, and the world was cruel. But, he’d never really live if he allowed others to use him like a tool…_

The letter he wrote was shorter than he would have liked, but there was so much he wanted to say he didn't know what actually mattered. So he kept it short, and left it unsigned, because she never called him by his name anyway, only writing in _sincerely, your beloved._

Byleth returned doned in traveling gear as he was placing the letter on his bed, two sacks in hand, and a quiver on her back.

“Are you still feeling alright?” She mumbled, and set the bags down, then handed him a cloak.

He sighed, and put on the cloak she handed him. “I wish I could leave something more for her.” He said glancing down at the letter. “I don't blame her for anything.”

He knew he hadn't specifically stated who he was referring to, but he knew that she knew. His mother was always fond of her.

“Hmm.” She looked around the room before reaching in her pocket, and holding out the dragon eye. “How about this? That way, she can remember you… and be protected.”

He smiled wryly. A faint whisper in the back of his head stirred asking _: would it even work? Your victory could have been a fluke._ _That is ridiculous._

He nodded. “I like that idea.”

She smiled, and closed her hand around it, then kissed her knuckles. She held her hand out to him expectantly.

After a moment he kissed her hand gently, and she placed the small orb on top of the letter.

It was a small, and perhaps soley sentimental action, but nevertheless he still felt a slight pang of sadness.

“Is there anything you want to take with you?” She asked quietly.

He looked around the room when it occurred to him. He still didn't know where the dagger was that he had purchased for her. “Actually, I had a blue dagger on me, I'd like to bring that. Do you know of it?”

She nodded, and flitted over to his dresser then pulled it from the top drawer. “I cleaned it up for you. It's a nice blade.” She returned to his side, and handed it to him.

“It is, isn't it?” He tested the weight of it in his hand before holding it out to her with a grin. “I know it's terribly late, and perhaps under not so good circumstances… but I got this for you. Happy belated birthday, my friend. I'm afraid our game, and tea will have to wait just a tad longer. I hope you can forgive me.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She took it back slowly. “You didn't— just for this, did you?”

He shook his head. “No. Even if I had, it's no one's fault but my own.”

“It's not.” She sighed, clipped the dagger to her belt then wrapped her arms around him. “You owe me a better hug when you're healed.” She mumbled into his chest.

He hugged her carefully and kissed the top of her head. “You wish for me to break your bones?” He teased lightly.

She shook her head. “You can definitely try.”

He laughed slightly. “Deal.”

She stepped away from him, and reached up to pull his hood over his head with a small smile, then took his hand. “Let's go.”

She led him out of the palace through a back tunnel made for the servants, and before he knew it they were weaving through the side streets that encompassed the city.

Past alleys much like the one they met in.

She paid an old man to allow them to sit on the back of his cart, and he said they could stay until his next stop in the port town, as long as they didn't bother him.

He assured the man that he had nothing to worry about.

An eye roll and a vague wave in their direction was their only answer.

Byleth let out a small huff of annoyance before helping him onto the cart. She climbed in next, and sat beside him.

Once they were settled against the weathered crates he leaned his head back, and turned to watch the palace recede in the darkness.

It felt sudden, and not soon enough all at the same time.

His entire life was spent fighting desperately for air, now that he could finally, _finally_ breath everything felt so surreal. Would he wake up in bed?

A part of him kept waiting for something to go wrong. For the carriage to break, or guards to come to retrieve him. Perhaps his cousin was still searching for him, and would send someone after them?

But everything was _quiet,_ and everything was _still_. Everything except the thoughts in his head. The thoughts that whirled and twisted in on themselves so tightly.

It couldn't be this easy.

Something was bound to go wrong. That's just the way of things.

He noticed she was holding her hand out to him silently, and he angled his body slightly to face her better. There was concern in her eyes but she made no other move towards him.

How long had she been waiting for his attention?

He shook his head, how long indeed, both literally, and figuratively he supposed. He laced his fingers through hers, and held her tightly. 

She smiled brightly, warmly, chasing away all of the darkened shadows that clawed at him. It occurred to him then, that he didn't have to worry about anything anymore. He was finally free. He _wasn't_ helpless, and he wasn't alone. He'd never really been alone, not since that day.

He had the stars, always had.

  
And he had Byleth.


	8. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter works as an Epilogue.

.

24~

.

Once the last round of cheers died down, he cleared his throat, and walked through the crowd until he was centered in the room. From a nearby table, he swiped a drink that had remained untouched for the evening. Too enraptured by his storytelling to do anything but look on in awe its owner was.

It was a humble payment for such intricate entertainment. Khalid thought, in his own most humble opinion.

“Then out from the blackest, deepest part of the trenches burst forth a beast so large the wave itself could have sank the boat straight into the unforgiving sea!”

There was a collective gasp, and a few hoots of excitement.

“The men scrambled in panic! _Oh the great spirits have surely forsaken us_ ! They lamented. _Her mighty maw, our final resting place!”_ He clambered onto a table, and tossed the contents of his glass around the dim room. “The sky split with the sorrows of the heavens, raining down upon the men! A large tentacle ripped into the deck,” for effect he smashed the glass into the floorboards, “taking half the crew into the raging seas!”

Another chorus of gasps echoed through the room, these ringing with tones of hopelessness.

He smirked, these were always his favorite parts, “But then! _She_ appeared! A spinning typhoon of power!”

From behind the counter Byleth jumped, and landed atop it, an open bottle in hand. “The goddess of the sea!” She proclaimed, voice smooth, and clear.

She paused for just a moment to fill the bartender's mug. “She whirled into the beast, her shrieks the thunderclaps that shook the heavens! Her body a weapon in and of itself, swirling, and teeming with the life of the very depth that the beast was birthed from! Limb by limb, the mighty beast was torn asunder, painting the seas a vermillion that rivaled the blood in your veins!” She pointed the bottle to the crowd, and met his gaze from across the room with a grin.

He winked, and threw his arms up to the ceiling. “ _We're saved!_ The men cried from the ship, and tossed themselves to their knees, bowing in reverence. They would not all perish this day.” He jumped off the table. “So remember, next you travel o'er her open waters, be wary of what lies beneath. Next time, she might not be so forgivin’ for she hates when she's disturbed from her sleep.”

There was a chorus of cheers, and applause that echoed around the room. Some even tossed some coin.

He grinned, and all but ran over to the counter Byleth stood on then held his arms out to her. Without hesitating she jumped into his arms. He caught her bridal style, having to spin her around to lose some of the momentum. He span her twice more for fun.

“You are radiant, my love.” He mumbled, and nuzzled into her neck.

She giggled, and kissed his cheek. “And you are flawless.”

“Ahem.” Came the bartender's gruff interruption.

He only grinned wider, and set her down gently, then slid into the stool across the man.

“So?” He leaned on the counter, brow raised.

The man laughed, and finished wiping off the mug in his hand. “Alright, you won. I didn't actually expect you to entertain _the whole room._ ”

Khalid shrugged. “Yet here we are. Soo, the deal?” He held his palm out, unable to wipe the smug grin from his face.

He scoffed. “Fine! You and the Lass can stay the rest of this moon in the spare room upstairs.” He briskly slapped a worn key in his waiting hand.

Byleth came over and high fived him.

“But you owe me for that glass you smashed.”

“Ah, well, I'm sure all of that—” he lazily gestured behind him to the varying amounts of coin scattered about the floor. “—will be more than enough to pay for such a dastardly crime. However, we've done the courtesy,” he pointed to an empty spot on the counter just as Byleth dumped some coins on the surface, “of gathering some of it for you.” He winked. “Fair enough?”

The man rolled his eyes, and waved a wash cloth at them. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, get before I change me mind.”

He laughed, and grabbed Byleth's hand then dragged her to the stairs that were roped off from the rest of the tavern.

“Did you enjoy my performance, my love?” He asked when they reached the top of the flight. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Of course I did, I will have to think about how to reward you.” She teased while he unlocked the door to the room.

“Your smile is enough.” He grinned when she hid her face, and opened the door dramatically, “After you, M’Lady~.”

She shook her head, but entered first anyway.

Even with the door shut tight, the noise from below was hardly muffled.

“Well that was fun!” He exclaimed, and set his bag, and weapons in the corner. “It'll be nice to sleep in a bed again, it's been a while.” He yawned, and kicked his boots off, taking a moment to survey the room.

A small bed sat tucked into the corner with a single bedside table, just across from it was an old trunk for storage. The walls were worn and bare of any paint, and the window that sat by the bed was free of any curtains. “No place like home.” He mumbled, and tossed himself back on the bed.

Byleth secured the locks on the door, then dragged the trunk in front of it to block it.

“You don't really need to block the door, love. It's been so long since an incident happened.” He called from the bed. “Besides, everyone in these parts knows me as Claude anyway, and Claude is a dashing, and popular fella.”

She sighed, choosing to ignore his last statement save for a shake of her head. She turned to him with her arms crossed. “I know, but we can never be too careful… I suppose I could move it back, but then I'll have to take a lookout shift.”

He shook his head, and sat up. “By, no, you're going to rest. Keep the trunk there.” He patted the spot beside him. “C’mon, I know you're tired.”

She eyed him for a moment then moved over to him. “You’re not going to even check it for bugs?” She mumbled, and knelt down to take off her boots, and equipment.

He sighed, and got up to do just that. “We've slept on the ground, my love. I didn't think it was necessary.”

“Yes, well— what about suspicious stains? That would be worse.”

“Ha! You have a point.” He looked over everything, and dramatically fluffed the pillow. “There, everything is in as good shape as it can be. Shall I straighten the covers as well?”

She rolled her eyes, and sat down on the bed. “Funny.”

“I try.” He sat beside her, and retrieved a map and pencil from his pocket, spreading it out on the bed by the moonlight. The creases in the parchment had grown so worn it was tearing in some places. “We can finally respond to Nader's letter. He’s probably getting anxious for a response.” He mused.

“Well it did take a while to find a place to stay. We've been on the road for sometime, and we mentioned as much in our last letter. I'm sure he'll forgive us.” She reasoned.

He nodded, absently twirling the pencil in his hand. “True, true… Ah, but that last place was really beautiful, wasn't it? I could have stayed there forever.” He scribbled a few notes in a spare space on the map. “The trees were so plentiful, the food was pretty great. Oh, and the market was the best, such a good spice shop.”

“Yeah… it was.” She shifted behind him.

He felt unease coming off her. “Are you alright?” He asked, turning slightly to face her.

She waved him off. “Yes, yes, I'm fine— just thinking… we should tell Nader what a good story teller you are now!” She grinned.

He frowned. “Uh, I don't know. I don't want him to think we're giving him credit for my natural born talent. I'm so much better than him.”

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, and set her chin on his shoulder. “The student often surpasses the Master, Khalid.”

“You were his student too.”

“Exactly.”

He could just feel her smirking. He shook his head, and went back to the map. “ _A_ _nyway_ , we might need a new one soon.” He mumbled, more to himself, gesturing to the map.

“Oh but I'll miss that one. We’ve had it for so long.” She absently started playing with his hair.

“Yeah, but soon we won't be able to read it. I can hardly make notes on it with how cluttered it is.”

She _tsked, and_ reached over him to swipe the pencil from his hand. “You _know_ I don't like when you write on it anyway!”

“Oh, come on, I have to make notes.” He turned, trying in vain to retrieve the pencil. “How else are we going to remember the who's, and what's from everywhere we've been? That's how we found that lovely little town from before.”

She sighed heavily. “But it makes the map hard to read, you big goof!” She slapped his shoulder. “That's why I made you that beautiful— _handmade_ — journal. I even sewed the sheets together myself— cover and all. Remember that little workshop I was attending for a week straight?”

He remembered, she'd left the place they were staying at the time everyday at the same time; an hour before noon. It was just a week, and she was always back for supper, but he missed her so much during those days. He could never find anything to do that distracted him enough to forget that she _wasn't_ there. Even now it would be hard to admit how excited he actually was to welcome her back… always with a cup of tea, or even coffee, that was a new addition they often enjoyed. What really killed him was how secretive she had been about what the workshop was actually about!

He took a breath to respond but she continued before he could.

“I even made the paper myself you know.” She released him, and tossed the pencil somewhere across the room. “Those sheets were difficult to dry without getting wrinkled.”

He gasped dramatically. “That was my _only_ pencil.”

She huffed. “Are you listening? Have you even used it yet?”

“Of course I'm listening.” He reached for her hand, aiming to kiss it, but she pulled it away. “I always listen when you speak.”

“I'm serious.”

He folded up the map, and tossed it aside before facing her fully. “I regret to inform you that I have already filled every page, my star.”

Her eyes widened, and she moved closer to him. More of her face became visible in the window light. “Already? Front to back?”

“Cover to cover.”

“But I hardly ever saw you with it!” She whispered in disbelief.

“I usually wrote in it when you rested.” He reached for her again, but hesitated. Had he really upset her? If so he didn't want her to think he was trying to brush it off.

Her eyes softened, and she placed her hand on his knee. “Oh, I didn't know. What do you write about? You must tell me since I'll have to make you a new one, apparently.”

He hummed to himself, and laid back against the bed, pulling her closer till she was sitting on him. Whatever moonlight seeped in from the window painted her hair with a ghostly halo.

“I write about many different things.” He grabbed her hand again, and finally kissed the top of it. He smiled against her skin, relief washing over him when she didn't pull away. “The people we might have encountered that day, the sounds, the smells.” He chuckled. “Pleasant or otherwise— so I know where _not_ to revisit.” He opened her palm, and placed a kiss on each finger with each example. “I might sketch out any new plants, write what they might be used for.” He turned her hand over, and continued on the other side. “Different animals we've encountered, new foods, music, the names of teas, what made you smile on a given day…” He placed one last kiss on the inside of her wrist. Her subtle but sharp intake of breath teased his ears, he smirked against her skin.

“Do you… write about anything else?” She pulled her hand back and tucked a section of starlight behind her ear.

He considered her for a moment, he _did_ write about something, rather someone else, quite often. Admitting to that fact was another thing.

Below the noise, and faded hollering finally started to dwindle, and in a manner of minutes there was nothing but silence. His ears were bombarded at once with the ringing of white noise, but that too faded when he finally found something else to focus on.

And of course it was her. It was always her. He was always acutely aware of her presence, the calm, and quiet breath that left her lips, steady as a pulse. It was enough to bring him peace in even the most dire of situations.

She didn't press for details, but she did kindle a flame within him, simply with the very subtle way she shifted over him, continuously like a pattern.

“I do.” He finally mumbled on a low exhale. His heart was already hammering intensely.

Wordlessly, she offered him her other hand, a delicate flush tinting her cheeks.

He took her hand gently, mirroring his previous action with a kiss pressed onto the back of her palm. “Let's see,” lazily, he brushed his thumb over each knuckle, slowing with each dip in her skin. She shifted slightly, and opened her hand herself. This brought another smirk to his lips. He wanted to tease her impatience, but the intense way she was watching him banished all of that away.

Like a light in the darkness.

“I have filled countless pages with stories you've told me, details of the different trinkets that catch your eye, your favorite cities, and places. The names of songs you sing, your favorite lyrics, poems, what flowers you gather the most, and—” He found his voice harder to find with each subject he listed.

She only leaned in closer, her hair falling around them like the most expensive curtain of silk. “And?” she promoted, bottom lip trapped by her teeth.

“I'm embarrassed to admit, but poor attempts to capture your visage on the page.” He usually sketched out images of plants, and flowers that he took notes on, maybe an animal here, and there. But on the nights that he couldn't sleep, or times where it was his turn to keep an eye out at night while they traveled, he occasionally caught himself trying to replicate the beautiful planes of her face on the paper.

The silence that followed made his stomach twist with unease. He couldn't read much from her expression except for surprise, but whether it was good or not was what had his nerves fraying.

Torturously slow, she reached down and brushed some stray strands of hair from his face. Her fingers hardly touched his skin but it was enough cause to increase his already painful heartbeat.

“You… you've drawn _me_?” She asked, voice coated in disbelief.

“They're not very good.” He rasped out. No matter how _good_ they actually were, when compared to the real thing— they were always terribly lacking.

She shook her head, the movement causing the shadows from her hair to dance around his face. “I'm— it doesn't matter. I'm beyond flattered.” She laughed quietly, and placed her hands beside his head to support herself. The chain that adorned her neck lifted and swung in the space between them like a pendulum.

A delicate pendant of jadestone.

He eyed it for a moment, unable to repress the smile that filled his face. “You still wear that?”

How had he not noticed it after all this time?

She smiled, and pressed her forehead against his. “Of course I do, my love. I have never taken it off my person… for a bit I carried it with me in a small pouch in my pocket because the chain snapped, but I was able to find a jeweler to properly fix it. I will treasure it _forever_.” Her fingers ghosted down his cheek, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.

His lips parted slightly at the touch, heat creeped down his neck. “That's…” It was growing harder for him to think clearly. “Well, now _you've_ flattered me.”

She brushed her nose against his. “So simply? You're so humble…” she continued to trace his lip, every touch impossibly light.

She could have been touching his heart, and he would lay there unable to take his eyes away from hers, no matter how deep the desire burned within him.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she pressed her lips softly against his. Though they often shared nights that were filled with much more frantic touches, sometimes hardly a full sentence shared between them, he still felt completely overwhelmed by such a simple touch. He almost forgot to breathe.

He returned her kiss lightly, slowly, as if he’d never kissed her before. His nerves were pulsing wildly, sending aching shivers down his spine.

His thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day, how they'd unabashedly skipped down the road, hand in hand before arriving at the rowdy tavern. The excited glint in her eye when she asked him to help her with her plan.

The second he spent pretending to think about it. Claiming that he would only do so once, as if he hadn't already done it for her in the past, as if he wasn't going to crumble, and do it all over again.

She laughed against his lips. “Why are you smiling so much? You're making it difficult to kiss you.”

“Forgive me, I just feel as if I've fallen for you all over again.” He kissed her again, well tried to but now _she_ was smiling too much. It was infectious because he too was smiling again.

“Perhaps I should start writing down the things you say to me.” She said with a laugh. “I could learn a thing or two.” At the end of it her face fell slightly, and she sat up.

He frowned, and sat up as well. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah… I was just.” She puffed out her cheeks, and glanced to the side. “You don't regret leaving that town, do you? That little cottage we stayed in. I know I said I wanted to go elsewhere, but it was only because we haven't finished our list yet!— If you didn't want to go—”

“Oh, By, have you been fretting over that this whole time?” He gently brushed the back of his hand over her cheek.

“ _No_ …” she protested. “I, well, not the whole time, but this isn't the first time you’ve talked about that place either, and you mentioned it twice in such a short time... ”

He grabbed her hand. “You know I don't care where we are, as long as we're together, right?”

Her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I know, I know, but you— I just want you to be happy.”

“Of course I'm happy. How can I be anything but when you're at my side?”

She glanced to the side “If finding a home to settle at is what you want, you only have to say so.” She sighed, and placed her hand over the one he held against her face. “I love you, and I don't want you to… regret.”

His heart swelled in his chest, stars he loved her so very much! If she needed him to tell her again, then he would. He would tell her again, and again, until he could no longer. Even still, he would probably find a way.

“Regret?” He shook his head. “You must know by now, when we walk together, through the rain, or the sandy deserts,” he leaned forward, and kissed her cheek softly, lips brushing her skin as he spoke, “I look, and see the stars in your eyes, and it reminds me that I am home.” He grabbed her hand, and opened her palm. “The spaces between each of your fingers, and how mine— somehow— fit so perfectly in them, entwined so tightly, or so gently,” he kissed the other side of her face, “I realize that I am home.” He traced his finger over the lines that decorated her hand. “The life that flows from your lips in bubbles of laughter, whispers of secrets, in the melody of song, through hushed or excited stories, and every single sigh— exasperated or otherwise— I _know_ that I am home.” He brushed his lips against hers gently before kissing her deeply.

She twisted her fingers in his hair, and slowly laid back into the blankets.

He followed her until he was looming over her, his forearms supporting his weight. The entire time he kept the kiss slow, and when she pulled away, chest heaving, it was with his tongue tracing the back of her teeth, and the warmth of her breath burned in his lungs.

He gave her a light kiss to her brow before leaning back to look at her fully.

“Byleth, my love, my moon, my favorite star, _you_ are my home.” He let out his own breathless sigh, “I care not where I am. I will follow you anywhere.”

The pink from her cheeks had spread down to her neck, and she looked up at him from heavy lidded eyes. “And… if I said that I only ever wish to follow you?” She murmured softly, free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He grinned, then turned his head to kiss her palm. “Then we will travel the most beautiful, and joyous of circles that there has ever been, and each time around will be all the more splendid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally complete! Guys! This is my first complete fe3h fic! I'm so hyped, and I thank all of you for joining me, and for giving my story love!! ♥♥!!


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